


Time Box

by Rachel500



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-20
Updated: 2009-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 43,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachel500/pseuds/Rachel500
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jack struggles to come to terms with Sam's new assignment, a freak accident finds him back in his past where he finds himself faced with the hardest dilemma of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Stargate SG1 is somebody else's, probably MGM/Gekko Corp/Sci-fi, and I freely admit that whoever's it is, I'm borrowing their show and they retain all rights, etc

**Time Box**

 **Prologue**

The clock mocked him.

Jack O'Neill sat staring at the oil splattered plastic circle on the wall with a scowl. The diner was on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. It was a local landmark, a throwback to the Sixties which had withstood all the changes around it to continue doing business. Vinyl covered almost every surface; it had once been a vibrant red and was now a washed out orange. The Formica table was cracked and coffee-stained. There was a faint scent of burnt oil in the air overlaid with the pungent odour of fried onions and meat.

His hands clenched around the sturdy white cup he held.

He could still make it. If he left within the next hour he could drive back to the house; he could run up the stairs; he could stop his son from taking the gun; stop his son from dying.

The clock ticked.

Jack lifted the cup and took a sip of the bitter, cold liquid. He grimaced as he swallowed and stared down into the black depths of the drink. He hadn't wanted it but he had needed something…something to keep him sat where he was while he ignored what was happening at…he hesitated over which word to use, the house where he had spent the last fifty-odd hours hadn't been his home for a long time.

The whole thing was surreal.

One minute he had been stood in Daniel Jackson's office with some doodad that the archaeologist had picked up on one of SG1's last missions and the next he had been waking next to his ex-wife – wife – ex-wife.

Hell.

Some Ancient doohickey device had thrown him back to his worst nightmare. Hell was a perfect description.

He hated time travel. If that's what this was. Not that it mattered, Jack thought bleakly. Whether he'd truly travelled back in time or this was some kind of virtual reality or even just a dream, it felt real.

He could make it.

The thought whispered through his head. He could still make it. He could stop Charlie from dying.

And risk changing the time line.

He couldn't do it. He could practically hear Samantha Carter in his head whispering about causality; chaos theory; butterfly effects.

If Charlie lived, Jack wouldn't go to Abydos and who knew what would happen? Maybe in a few months time Ra would arrive and the world would end all because Jack couldn't let his son take a bullet he had already taken. Or maybe they wouldn't meet Ra and everything would be fine. Or maybe this wasn't real anyway…

It wasn't fair.

He had saved the world so many times – didn't that count for something? Why had fate placed him here again? Why did he have to choose? Why him?

Jack's lips twisted. He only had himself to blame – he'd picked up the damn box…


	2. Chapter 2

_Present Day_

Jack was bored.

He guessed he really shouldn't be bored. He was the Head of Homeworld Security, after all. There was probably a hundred things he should be doing; inspecting the latest spacecraft being built out at Area 51, listening to Doctor Lee's report on the progress of Midway, or talking with Hank Landry, the current CO of the SGC, about the strategy for stopping the Wraith should they ever get to Earth…yet nothing appealed to Jack right that moment as much as simply slouching over the central workbench in Daniel's office and complaining.

'I'm bored.'

The archaeologist barely looked up from the old manuscript he was reading. 'Hmmm-hmmm.' He frowned in a way that told Jack the other man had hit a word he couldn't translate.

Jack rolled his brown eyes at Daniel's bent head and reached across to ruffle the short strands.

Daniel's head jerked up and he glared at him. 'Jack.'

'Daniel.'

More staring.

Jack was vaguely satisfied at the irritated look. He had conceded 'torturing Daniel' duty to Vala Mal Doran since she did it just by existing but he still had it. Daniel sighed in a long-suffering kind of way that made Jack's chest puff out with pride. Oh yeah. He still had it.

'Don't you have anything better to do?' Daniel asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Jack shook his head cheerfully. 'I just came to visit.'

Daniel cocked his head and his blue eyes narrowed behind the panes of glass in a calculating way that always made Jack feel like he was an interesting fossil. Jack straightened and glared. Unfortunately his best 'General' look hadn't worked on Daniel since, well, ever really.

The younger man ignored it. 'She's only in the Atlantis.'

Jack searched for a distraction. He was so not having this conversation. Not with Daniel. Not with anyone. Ever.

'Daniel.'

'Jack.'

Great. Daniel had his 'you can't fool me, I know you're missing her' voice. Maybe he had a point. Carter had departed for Atlantis a week before and the truth of it was Jack was missing her. A lot.

It was a good move for her career and moreover, she was the best candidate. There was no-one more qualified in the military to lead a scientific expedition in a galaxy where there were Replicators and Wraith hiding round every corner. She deserved it and he had supported her decision to go. Heck, he'd even supported Richard Woolsey's recommendation that Carter be appointed. He almost rolled his eyes at the memory. Why was that again? Why had he felt compelled to agree to an assignment for Carter that had his wife posted to another galaxy?

It was a good move for her, Jack reminded himself, and he had promised himself when they had finally made the leap and got together as a couple that he would never get in the way of her career nor what was best for Earth. But her absence probably did explain his restlessness and why he'd ended up at the SGC.

It was filled with memories of her; years and years of memories. It was as though her scent lingered in the hallways; her touch imprinted on every surface. He couldn't walk around a single corner or into a single room and not be reminded of her in some way. He was half-expecting her to walk in the door. He glanced at the empty doorway briefly and as he glanced away his eyes careened into Daniel's compassionate understanding.

Jack sighed and turned away. He began to pace.

'She'll be fine.' Daniel said softly.

Sure, she would. It wasn't Carter Jack was worried about. Well, not anymore than he usually did at any rate. He hated not being in the field with her where he could watch her six; had hated it ever since he'd gotten the stars that adorned his shoulders and taken positions that made him the Man. But Carter could take care of herself; she could take care of Atlantis.

No, Jack was disturbed to realise that he was more worried about whether he was going to make it without her steady presence somewhere in his galaxy, which was downright nuts when it came down to it because it wasn't as though he hadn't been alone before.

 _After Charlie._

 _So_ not the same thing, Jack reminded himself brusquely.

There was just no comparison. Charlie had died. Tragically. A single shot had ripped Jack's heart to pieces and shattered his life. It had taken years and a certain SG1 team to patch it back together. He hadn't lost Carter; she wasn't dead. She was just a galaxy away; a hop, skip and a jump through a few Stargates and Midway. He could visit her tomorrow.

Of course he wouldn't.

Carter needed time to settle into her command; she needed to prove to herself she could lead without him or SG1 as a safety net. And besides, he might be the Head of Homeworld Security but Carter would kick his ass if he turned up for no good reason. But her absence from their home galaxy had evoked the echo of feelings he'd thought long gone; loneliness and loss. They had spent much of their married life living in different States and managed just fine but for some reason he wasn't doing well with their long distance marriage spanning actual galaxies. It just felt like she was gone _gone_.

 _Like Charlie._

He shook off the melancholy and a glint of metal in the dark recesses of a shelf beckoned to him. It was a box. Small and silver with ornate markings of Ancient script. Shiny.

'Hey, what's this?' Jack reached for it without thinking. His fingers skimmed the metal surface.

'Jack! Don't touch that!'

He dimly heard Daniel's warning over the humming. He snapped his hand back as the box began to glow but he knew it was too late.

 _Oops._

There was a flash of red light and the world went black.


	3. Chapter 3

_Jack's Past_

It was the cold that nudged Jack back to consciousness. There was a chill across his bare back that he vaguely recognised was probably because there was an absence of blankets. Jack stirred slowly, mapping his physical condition. He felt awful; nauseous, achy and there was a sharp pain in his head, not to mention the cold back.

What the hell had happened? It came back to him in flashes: Daniel's office. The thinking about Carter. The box. The light. Lights out.

Right.

He turned over onto his back and froze as someone shifted in the bed beside him.

OK, Jack thought, banking down the automatic surge of panic to focus on the facts; he was in bed with someone. Which was weird. Very weird. He'd been expecting an infirmary bed and they were definitely not made for sharing. Although, he realised with some chagrin, the room didn't smell of the faint antiseptic that permeated the infirmary nor did the sheets feel like thin cotton. In fact, the sheets were a decent linen; soft and comforting against his naked skin.

Woah.

Naked?

He was in bed naked? With someone?

His heart began to pound along with his head.

 _Get a grip, Jack._ The thought managed to quell most of his alarm. If he was in bed with someone it was probably Carter. He'd passed out; she'd been recalled – and he ignored the large surge of guilt that thought provoked – and they'd obviously gone back to the house they had bought in Colorado Springs even if he couldn't remember how they'd gotten there.

Only it didn't feel like their sheets and the room didn't smell like their room. It usually held a hint of mustiness from disuse and a strong scent of lemon polish that their cleaner liked to use. This room smelled fresh with the perfume of flowers pervading everywhere. A memory teased him.

Sara.

Sara had always liked fresh flowers in their home especially the master bedroom. Roses. He had always bought her a bouquet of them every week when he'd been home. But that had been a long time ago and Jack was so not going to be thinking about his ex-wife when he was in bed with Carter. Jack dragged himself back to the present. He was in bed, naked with Carter. That was the only explanation because Jack knew he would never think about cheating on her. He was a one woman type of guy; always had been even in his youth. So what was he worried about, he thought wryly. All he had to do was open his eyes, see it was Carter and it would be fine.

His eyes remained stubbornly shut.

On three, Jack told himself sternly. One. Two. He lifted one lid cautiously and peeked out.

A blonde head appeared in his vision.

Blonde was good. He opened the other eye and let his gaze drift downwards to establish the form under the sheets. He made out the curve of a breast; the shapely hip and long legs.

It was a blonde woman.

He was two for two. Excellent. He let out a sigh. He frowned abruptly as he registered the quilt covering them.

It was Sara's grandmother's. She had given it to them as a wedding gift.

The woman turned over suddenly and Jack froze in horrified recognition.

Sara?

He was in bed with Sara.

His ex-wife.

Naked in bed with Sara.

No. He slammed his eyes shut. This was not good. Not good. How had he ended up in bed with Sara? He couldn't remember. He clapped a hand over his face and froze for the second time in as many minutes.

His face.

It felt different.

He touched it gently, travelling over his features with surprise. His skin felt tighter; the lines weren't as deep. There was no scar bisecting his eyebrow.

 _What. The. Hell. Was. Going. On._

He reopened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He knew the ceiling; knew every crack and line, not to mention the smudge of green paint where Sara had missed the tape. It was the ceiling of the master bedroom he had shared with her when they had been married. He slowly looked around the rest of the room identifying the shadowy hulks of furniture as he went; the antique dresser Sara had lovingly restored; the Queen Anne chairs; the small sofa in the corner where Sara liked to read; the TV hidden away in a special cabinet his father-in-law had made by hand and the old antique closet.

His eyes returned to Sara. Even in the dim twilight that pushed its way into the room he could see that she looked younger than when he had last seen her at their divorce hearing. Her face relaxed in repose. His heart turned over. He'd loved her very much once even if his feelings had faded with the loss of their marriage.

Focus, he told himself. He had to work out what had happened. Jack inched out of bed and reached for the discarded jeans on the floor. He hurriedly pulled them on and made his way silently to the en suite without giving the woman in the bed another glance.

Safe in the relative privacy of the bathroom, his mind continued to register the evidence that he had somehow ended up in his past home. Fluffy white towels adorned the towel rack; Sara's brands of shampoo and paraphernalia cluttered the edges of the bath. Their toothbrushes sat next to each other in an old chipped jar along with different brands of toothpaste on the shelf over the sink. They never had agreed on one brand their whole marriage.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked over ten years younger. His hair was brown with only the merest suggestion of grey around the temples. His face was free of some of the harsher lines that marked the corners of his eyes and dragged at the familiar contours. He had lost the scar he'd received from being at the wrong end of a Staff weapon.

His mouth went dry and his stomach churned uneasily as bile rose up the back of his throat.

Jack opened the faucet and filled a hand with water. He sucked up the liquid and swirled it around his mouth before spitting it into the sink. He doused his head under the water to shake away the last of his headache. He stared back at his reflection.

Nope.

He still looked younger. He missed the grey – how crazy was that? Breathe, Jack; he told himself as he clutched the edge of the sink.

He sat down on the edge of the bath and rubbed at his chest, noticing the firm muscle tone of his pectorals and the defined six-pack of his abdominals with envy. He hadn't been quite as toned for years.

Jack took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. OK. He had to think about this logically. What had happened? What was the last thing he remembered happening?

Daniel's office. The thinking about Carter. The box. The light. Lights out.

Right.

The box. The whole glowing lights show. That had to mean something. Maybe he had been transported back in time somehow. That would explain the younger body and waking up in his previous existence. Stranger things had happened. Maybe the box had shifted his consciousness through time so Jack would wake eleven years before beside a wife he had emotionally deserted after…

 _Charlie._

His heart leaped into his throat and he stared at the closed bathroom door with frozen shock.

If he had travelled back through time…if this was real…then Charlie was there.

Alive.

Whole.

Sleeping down the hall.

Jack didn't recall making the decision to stand, to cross to the bathroom door, to open it. He made his way out of the bedroom and cautiously down the landing. He stood in front of the open door to Charlie's room. They had never shut it in case of an emergency. Jack's heart was beating too fast; his breathing was too shallow. He only knew he was scared to take the step forward and not sure why. He didn't know if he was afraid to find Charlie there or more afraid that he wouldn't be.

Jack took a single step inside the doorway and slumped against the wooden jamb. Charlie was sleeping. His youthful face was illuminated by the early morning rays filtering through the half-open curtains. He was sprawled over his small bed; limbs akimbo; the Spiderman pyjamas he wore, twisted and hiked up in places. A soft snore escaped his lips.

Jack watched him. He was unable to tear his eyes away from Charlie; living, breathing, snoring.

He had no idea how long he stayed just inside the doorway, just watching, drinking his son in like he was a thirsty man in a desert who'd just found water. The urge to walk the final steps to the bed, to drag his son into his arms, to hug him hard was strong. But there was something that stopped Jack. He couldn't quite bring himself to test reality.

Charlie was alive.

But not for long.

The new baseball glove on the dresser pinpointed the date. He'd bought it for Charlie the week before Charlie had shot himself. It had been meant as a surprise but when he'd gone to show his son, he'd found him with a water pistol. No toy guns. It had been Sara's rule. She hadn't wanted Charlie growing up thinking violence was the answer and Jack had been happy enough to support her despite his profession or maybe because of it. God knew he'd seen enough violence at work not to want Charlie anywhere near it. He and Charlie had argued when he'd confiscated the toy. A week later, Charlie had gone looking for the water pistol in the closet and found Jack's handgun.

The rest was history.

Charlie was dead.

 _Charlie was dead._

The blunt reminder had Jack taking a step back. Then another one. He headed back into the bedroom and picked a sweater at random, ignoring the gun blatantly sitting on top of the lockbox, waiting to be put away. He spared a grateful thought for his training which allowed him to gather his things without waking Sara. He dressed haphazardly on his way downstairs where he pushed his feet into sneakers and shrugged on the first jacket he found – a green parka. He picked up his cell phone, wallet and keys, and quietly let himself out of the house. He got in his truck and drove away.

Jack managed to make it past the town limits before he pulled over abruptly, staggered out of the driver's seat and vomited into the sparse grass at the side of the road. He was dry heaving when he finally managed to regain his breath and control. He lurched backwards and hit the side of his truck. He grabbed a bottle of water he kept in the cooler compartment in the back and washed out his mouth. He spat the first mouthful onto the ground, and the second. The third he gulped down. He threw the bottle back into the cooler and got back into the truck.

He stared at the empty road ahead.

Now what?

The question nagged at him.

Jack's head dropped backwards to rest on the seat cushion and he closed his eyes. He was in the past. His past. The absolute worst part of his past including the four months he'd spent in an Iraqi prison and Ba'al's endless torture. He would lose Charlie. Again. It was his worst nightmare made real. He'd barely lived through it once.

He didn't have to lose Charlie.

The thought drifted through his head like a snake suggesting an apple to Eve. It would be easy enough to return to the house, lock up his gun and ensure Charlie lived. Maybe that was the reason why he'd been transported back in time; maybe he was meant to save Charlie.

He snorted.

Even he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that delusion. Charlie had died. It was horrific and heartbreaking but it had happened and it couldn't be taken back.

Could it?

No.

He had to stop thinking that way. He had been transported back by some freak accident. He remembered enough about their trip to nineteen-sixty-nine to recall Carter's warnings about altering the timeline. But they had altered the timeline before. They'd sent themselves a note from the future; they'd evidently gone back in time to secure a ZPM so why couldn't Jack have been thrown back to save his son?

Jack shook his head, trying desperately to ignore the sliver of hope that teased at him. He'd once thought he would have done anything to have this time again; to change a single thoughtless act of leaving his weapon unsecured; to have his son back. But faced with the reality he was torn.

He could save his son but then Charlie would live and that would change the timeline. How much Jack couldn't predict; he wasn't even sure if Carter could predict it. He only knew that he would never have been chosen to go on the first mission through the Stargate if he hadn't been suicidal. And if he hadn't gone on that first mission, he would never have joined the SGC; he wouldn't have been part of SG1; he wouldn't have been there to save Carter, or Daniel, or Teal'c, or Earth…

Maybe it would be someone else. Maybe someone else would step up to the plate. Maybe Jack would live out the rest of his life listening to stories of meteor showers and satellite failures and ignore the fact that Anubis was attacking; that the Replicators had arrived. Jack had never thought he was indispensable. Carter or Daniel, maybe they were irreplaceable given their genius status or Teal'c who held such a unique place in Jaffa history – but him? He was just a soldier. Surely he couldn't have had such an impact that his involvement would make the difference between Earth being safe or wiped out?

Of course the truth was he couldn't say either way and that was the sticking point. Could he truly afford to risk the safety of Earth to save one boy, even if that boy was his son? Jack's eyes flickered open and he stared blindly out at the road. He'd once had to make a similar decision about Carter. She had been possessed by a computer entity; he'd pulled the trigger to save Earth. He loved Carter; would have rather died than pulled that trigger but he'd done it because in the grand scheme of things, it was Earth or Carter, and he had a duty to protect his world that came before anything else. Carter understood; she had taken the same oath after all.

The thought of Carter brought another thought to mind. It wasn't just the safety of Earth that was at risk if he changed the past. If he altered the timeline he would inevitably change his personal future. He sighed and rubbed at his chest. His marriage to Sara hadn't been without its problems but it had been a good marriage. It had crashed on the rocks of Charlie's death. He had been unable to be there for Sara in the way that she had needed. But if Charlie lived…maybe he and Sara would have weathered the years together, who knew?

And what about Carter? Would she meet and marry someone else? His heart seized at the thought and he couldn't deny the way his gut clenched in automatic denial. He had never compared his first marriage with his second. It was like apples and pears; different. But he knew his love for Carter was something that wouldn't go away – and God knew he'd tried to forget her all the time she'd been someone else's fiancée. Carter was his and even if the spectre of his previous thinking, that she could find someone better, haunted his thoughts occasionally, he hated the idea.

He laughed bitterly.

A future with Charlie or a future with Carter; the universe had a perverse sense of humour.

So, what did he do, Jack thought tiredly.

The truth was he'd been right in the first instance; Earth came first. It always did. His choice wasn't between Charlie or Carter; it was between a future of uncertainty or a future where he knew the Earth was relatively safe.

Could he do it? Could he stand by and watch his son die a second time?

Pain shot through him and Jack shifted restlessly in the seat. He blinked back the tears that threatened. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. He rubbed a hand over his rough unshaven face; through his short hair. The answer, Jack determined grimly, was to get back to his future before he had to seriously make the choice.

Sure.

Get back to the future.

He rolled his eyes. He sounded like Michael J Fox only he didn't have a DeLorean nor a puddle-jumper with a time-machine. But they had recovered the one from Egypt. It hadn't been salvageable according to Carter but Jack half-suspected that she wanted to deny the possibility of going back in time again.

So all he had to do was fly to Egypt; uncover a puddle-jumper in the middle of the desert; fix it and transport himself to the future sometime before…he frowned as he realised he needed to ascertain the exact date, but certainly, the next few days. That wasn't going to happen.

OK. Plan A was a bust. Jack tapped his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel.

The box. The box that had done this to him.

Well, there was a non starter. They wouldn't find the box for another eleven years. If they found it. If he hadn't already irreparably altered the timeline by leaving his house before dawn.

No plan B for Box then.

Onto plan C: Carter. Carter could fix this. All he had to do was find Carter and she would find someway to get him back to the future. Of course, if he found Carter then he would be meeting her way before they were supposed to meet. He leaned his forehead on the steering wheel.

He hated time travel.

Seriously.

Hated it.

Had done ever since their first jaunt to the past and…Hammond. General George Hammond. Jack's head shot up again. Hammond could help him. Hammond had helped them before when they had got stuck in the past and the General knew how to keep time travelling a secret. At the very least he would provide a good sounding board.

Jack reached for his phone. He regarded the heavy object with distaste. He was just too used to the slim line barely there cell phones of the new millennium rather than the lumpy bricks of the late nineties. It took him a moment to remember the number, and how the phone worked, but he eventually managed to dial the Pentagon switch board. Hammond had been stationed out in Washington when the Stargate had been activated that first time.

'This is Colonel O'Neill. General Hammond's office, please.' Jack said briskly when his call was answered.

The operator put through the call and Jack listened to the guarded greeting Hammond's XO gave him with barely concealed impatience. He asked to speak with Hammond.

'Sorry, sir, but the General is out of town at this weekend for his daughter's birthday.' The XO was polite but firm. Jack knew he'd get nowhere arguing with him. Paul Davis guarded his own office at Homeworld Security with the same tone.

'I can take a message.' The XO offered into the silence.

Jack cleared his throat. 'No, thank you. I'll call back another time.' He twisted his lips at the irony. He ended the call and frowned at the phone. He threw it on the passenger seat.

Hammond's daughter Susan lived in Colorado Springs. If Hammond was visiting with her for her birthday then it was likely that Hammond was in town at the family home. Jack gunned the engine. He hoped George wouldn't mind having a guest for breakfast.


	4. Chapter 4

Hammond's home was situated in one of the oldest and nicest parts of the town. It was a large family house with good grounds surrounding it; perfect for children. Jack regarded the house with a strange wariness. He'd been before on many occasions; dinners and barbeques Hammond had held for the SGC staff. He knew Hammond's daughter; knew her children.

But he didn't.

Not in this time; not in the past.

It was weird, Jack mused before he put the thought aside. He pushed open his truck door and exited. He knocked on the front door and waited impatiently. He fingered his sunglasses; a variant of the brand he preferred. He didn't need them exactly. The Sun was up but the sky was a grey and overcast which suited his mood. It was early. Very early. Maybe he should have waited for a more decent hour. He sighed at the lack of response to his knock and had just turned back to try again when the door opened.

If Jack hadn't known him so well, he would have sworn George Hammond barely flickered an eyebrow at seeing him on his doorstep, but he did know him, and he saw the faintly startled look of recognition in the pale blue eyes before it was expertly hidden. Hammond straightened and Jack could almost read the urge in the older man's eyes to tighten the belt on the red dressing gown he wore.

'Yes?' Hammond's Texas drawl was cautious and wary.

'I need your help.' Jack winced apologetically at the unalloyed bluntness. 'Sorry.' He waved a hand at Hammond. 'I planned a whole speech but…' he shrugged.

Hammond regarded him with a long even stare. 'I'm sorry but I think…'

'George,' Jack winced again at the man's evident surprise at that, 'I mean, sir, General.' He stopped and sighed heavily. 'Can we forego the whole I don't know who you are dance?' He pleaded. 'I need your help to get back to the future.'

Hammond's thin eyebrows rose up his bald head and he nodded slowly. 'You'd better come in.' He stepped back and Jack entered the hallway.

The décor hadn't changed in all the time Jack had known Hammond; tasteful and elegant, Hammond's home was a reflection of the wife he had lost to cancer. It was warm and welcoming; comforting. Jack felt a momentary pang of regret that he had never known Ann Hammond.

'Daddy?' Susan's voice travelled down the stairs questioning without any further words who had called so early.

'It's work, sweetheart.' Hammond responded. 'You go back to bed.' His glance at Jack warned him to be quiet.

Jack was happy to follow the unspoken order as Hammond led the way to his study. He left Jack sitting in one of the plump leather chairs and went to make coffee.

Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts. The study was dark; the only light was the thin rays filtering through the blinds. The walls were painted a deep green in the spaces where there weren't bookshelves. The carpet was a pattern of red and green that Jack didn't look at too closely, afraid it would bring his headache back. The large desk in front of him, with the leather chair beyond, reminded Jack of Hammond's office at the SGC.

He wondered what he could say to Hammond. In truth he hadn't thought much beyond simply getting Hammond to help him. He considered it a small miracle that Hammond had let him in the front door. He was suddenly aware of his appearance; rumpled, unwashed, unshaven. He must look like a madman. He dragged his hands over his hair and lowered his head.

The study door opened and Hammond entered carrying a tray of hot coffee and toast. The smells filled Jack's senses and his stomach rumbled happily. Hammond set the tray down on the desk and gestured at Jack to help himself.

Jack washed down the slice of toast he consumed with a gulp of hot coffee and raised his mug. 'I'm sorry.'

'What for, son?' Hammond asked gently. He had taken the seat behind the desk. He had watched Jack eat but hadn't picked up any of the toast. He had simply sipped on the mug of coffee he had poured and waited.

'For…this.' Jack gestured awkwardly. 'Turning up like this.'

Hammond inclined his head in acknowledgement. 'Why don't you tell me exactly what's going on, Colonel?'

The rank reassured Jack. Hammond knew who he was. 'I wish I knew, sir.' Jack picked up another slice of toast and set it down again. 'I'm not sure.'

Hammond raised a hand from the desk. 'Start at the beginning.'

The calm authority was so reminiscent of Jack's working days with the man that it took him a moment to get past how much he missed Hammond on a day to day basis.

'I was in the future.' Jack grimaced and hid his discomfort by taking another gulp of the bitter coffee. 'I was with Daniel Jackson…uh…'

'One of the other young men who was with you in our previous encounter in the past.' Hammond supplied.

'Right.' Jack fiddled with the mug. 'I was talking with him about…something and he happened to have this, um, alien box on a shelf.' He dropped his gaze to look at the liquid in his mug. 'I might have, maybe, accidentally, touched it.'

'I see.' Hammond said dryly.

Jack risked a glance and saw the older man's round face suffused with amusement. 'There was a flash of red light and then nothing. I must have lost consciousness.' He wet his lips. 'The next thing I know, I'm waking up this morning in my old house.' He swept a hand down his front. 'In my younger body.'

Hammond frowned. 'So you think this box somehow transported your consciousness back in time?'

'Maybe.' Jack shrugged. 'I can't think how else I got here.'

'It seems like the most plausible explanation.' Hammond agreed soberly. He tapped his desk. 'Do you have the box?'

Jack shook his head. He looked Hammond straight in the eye. 'I need to get back to the future, sir, before I screw up the timeline.'

'And how do you intend to do that?' Hammond asked directly, a small frown line appearing between his brows.

'Well, I was hoping you would help, sir.' Jack admitted.

'I'd be happy too, Colonel.' Hammond said. 'If I knew how to help you.'

Hammond's answer brought Jack up short. He had really not thought this through, Jack sighed. Hammond had no way of helping Jack anymore than Jack had a way of helping himself.

'I take it I didn't forewarn you?' Hammond asked, leaning forward over the desk.

Jack shook his head. 'You probably had no way of knowing when it would happen. Even if I gave you a date…'

'Time can change.' Hammond finished as Jack's voice trailed away.

'I just can't stay here.' Jack said an edge of desperation creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to remain calm.

'How did you get back the last time?' Hammond asked curiously.

Jack drained his mug and set it down. 'An alien device called the Stargate. It's currently in Cheyenne mountain.'

Hammond nodded. 'I've been briefed on the device.'

'Well, you had…will have…' Jack paused over the tenses and ignored them, 'Carter work out how to make time travel possible using it.'

'Carter?' Hammond leaned back. 'Captain Carter? The young woman who was in the truck with you?'

'And the daughter of your good friend Jacob.' Jack shot back.

Hammond didn't deny the charge. 'Can you get back using the Stargate?'

'I don't know.' Jack said. He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped back in the chair. 'I don't think so. There's the small matter of my being in the wrong body and if I leave…' He pulled a face.

'You would effectively remove yourself from the timeline completely.' Hammond stood up and refilled their mugs from the coffeepot. He handed Jack his before he sat down again, this time in the chair next to him. 'I'm not sure how I can help.'

Jack shrugged. 'I don't think you can.' He admitted with chagrin. He'd been so freaked out, he hadn't thought it through, Jack realised. Not enough at any rate. He raised rueful eyes to meet Hammond's. 'I'm sorry for disturbing you.' He made to get up and stopped as Hammond waved him back into the chair.

'Finish your coffee, son.' Hammond said kindly. 'And tell me the rest of it.'

Jack looked at him startled.

Hammond looked back at him evenly. He always had been able to see through Jack. Jack hesitated though. He trusted the Hammond who he had worked with for almost a decade. That Hammond would trust Jack would do the right thing but this Hammond? This Hammond didn't really know him and if he admitted everything, would Hammond be prepared to take the risk of leaving Jack free to change the timeline?

'What day is it?' Jack asked abruptly. 'I mean, I've figured out the year and the week just…'

'Saturday.' Hammond replied.

Jack took another gulp of coffee to delay responding to Hammond. He finally set the mug down and looked at the other man guardedly. 'On Monday, well, let's just say there's a personal event in my life I would rather not live through again.'

Hammond frowned and pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'What event?'

'It's bad.' Jack replied quietly, looking away from him. 'I'm not sure I should say anything else.'

'Do you think this event is in any way related to your being sent back to the past?' Hammond asked.

Was it? Jack turned the idea over in his head. He'd been thinking about Carter before he'd touched the box but in hindsight he had also been thinking about Charlie, about losing Charlie. Maybe the box had picked up on it and that was why he'd ended up back just before his son's death.

'Maybe.' Jack admitted out loud. 'I was thinking about it before I touched the box.'

'Well, at least that's the beginning of an explanation.' Hammond murmured.

The beginning but Jack needed to get to the end not to mention he needed to find the way out neatly signposted along the way.

'I need to get back to the future before Monday.' Jack said firmly. 'Before…' he pressed his lips together. 'Before it happens again.'

Hammond was silent for a long moment and Jack could almost feel the General's eyes regarding him.

'You're afraid you'll try and stop it from happening.' Hammond realised.

Jack didn't disagree; he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees and stared at his hands. 'All I know for certain is that I can't screw up the timeline.' He clasped his hands together loosely. He laughed shortly. 'If I haven't already.'

'You mean by coming here?' Hammond questioned, his eyes widening.

Jack nodded. 'I don't seem to remember a trip to your house this particular Saturday.' He frowned suddenly. 'Shouldn't I though?'

Hammond stared at him blankly.

'My coming here has changed my past but as far as I remember, this day happened without my visiting you.' Jack explained succinctly. 'Shouldn't this be affecting my memory already?'

'I don't know.' Hammond said with a sigh. 'I'm not an expert.' His eyes narrowed. 'And I think what we need is an expert.'

Jack straightened. 'I already thought of Carter.'

'And?' Hammond prompted.

'And she and I don't meet for another year.' Jack said firmly. 'If we meet now we change the timeline again.'

'The question is do you think we can get you back to the future without her or someone else just like her?' Hammond questioned gently. He pushed out of his chair and put his mug down. 'Because I don't.'

Jack sighed.

Hammond's features softened. 'On the plus side, Colonel, I don't know of anyone better suited to keeping this a secret.'

The General was right on both counts. If anyone could help him it was Carter and there was no-one else who would understand the need to keep Jack's time travel a secret from his future self better than Carter. Hammond must have read the answer on his face because he nodded decisively.

'I'll call her.' Hammond checked the clock and picked up the phone without waiting for Jack to agree. He flipped through a phone book and dialled the number.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face, scowling as his fingers scraped over rough stubble. He needed to clean up.

'Sam? George Hammond.' Hammond chuckled. 'I'm very well, thank you.' There was a pause and Jack figured Carter was speaking. 'Yes, everything's still on for Susan's party later today. Actually, I have a small project that requires your expertise. Can you come to the house?'

Jack held his breath waiting for the answer. Carter was under no obligation to agree. Hammond had framed the statement as a request not an order and given the time period, she was likely assigned to General West. She might be working or…

'As soon as possible.' Hammond replied. He nodded. 'That would be great. I'll see you then.' He replaced the receiver in its cradle. 'She'll be here in about thirty minutes.' He looked down at his own undress and back at Jack. 'We should probably spend that time getting ourselves presentable.'

'You may have a point.' Jack commented dryly. 'I also need to make a phone call.' He caught the question before Hammond had a chance to ask it. 'My…Sara will probably be wondering why I disappeared from the house so early.'

Hammond ushered him towards the door. 'I'll show you to the guest room. There's a phone you can use in there.'

Jack followed him through the house, up the wide staircase to the upper landing. Hammond showed him into a guest room with its own bath room attached. Hammond pointed out razors, facecloths and towels before inviting Jack to take a shower. They wandered back into the bedroom. The décor was a subdued lilac; calm and restful. Jack looked longingly at the bed. He was suddenly very tired.

'I'll leave you to it.' Hammond said. 'Come to the study in thirty minutes.'

Jack nodded. 'Sir?' He waited until Hammond turned around. 'Thank you.'

Hammond smiled. 'I'll see you downstairs.' He closed the door behind him and left Jack alone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter Four**

Jack sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. With the initial rush of realising he'd gone back to his past and his plan of finding Hammond out of the way, he was drained. Exhausted. Not even the thought of seeing Carter was enough to energise him. He knew he could easily spend the next few hours sleeping. Instead, he reached for the phone and dredged a number from its stored memory that he hadn't had to dial in a long while.

'O'Neill residence.' Sara's sleepy voice travelled down the line and sent a surge of guilt through Jack. She had no idea that the husband she had went to bed beside had changed during the middle of the night. As far as she knew they were happily married.

'Hey.' Jack replied simply.

'Jack.'

He could picture her waking up, realising he was gone and scrambling into a sitting position in the bed.

'Where are you?' Sara asked.

'Something came up.' Jack didn't bother to explain further. Sara had been married to him while he'd been in Special Forces; unexplained absences went with the job.

There was a hint of a sigh when she spoke again. 'When will you be back?'

'I'm not sure.' Jack fudged. 'It could be tonight; it could be a couple of days.'

'OK.' Sara responded. 'Be careful.'

His heart clenched painfully in his chest but he made an effort to lighten his tone and give the expected response. He'd forgotten this tradition of phrases between them when he'd gone on a mission. That she had always given him that caution to be careful, to come home to them. 'You know me.'

'I know,' Sara laughed, 'that's why I say it. Love you, Jack.'

He struggled for a moment against a wave of memories and a sense that he was cheating on Carter by even hearing the words. 'Hug Charlie for me.' He put the phone down quickly. He closed his eyes in regret – at the deception, at the loss of his marriage to Sara, at the sense he was betraying his vows to Carter; he wasn't sure what.

He'd only known with his marriage to Carter how hard it must have been for Sara watching him leave, never knowing if he would return. And he had the advantage of knowing the truth about where Carter was and what she was doing. Maybe that's why he'd delayed his retirement again; he hadn't wanted to leave himself left out in the dark. He pushed the thought away.

Jack headed for the shower. He set it to scalding, stripped and stepped under the spray. He remained there for several minutes allowing the water to drench him; allowing it to batter his skin turning it a light pink as though it would wash away his regrets. Eventually, he soaped and rinsed his body. He shut off the water and wrapped his lower body in a bath towel while he shaved at the sink. He found an unused spare toothbrush and cleaned his teeth. He dried off and redressed, grimacing at having to wear the same clothing again.

Couldn't be helped, Jack thought as he laced his sneakers and shrugged his green parka back over the thin sweater he had grabbed on his way out of the house that morning. He checked his watch. He was a few minutes early but he didn't want to stay in the room alone with his thoughts any longer. He made his way back downstairs.

The study door was open and Jack knocked on the doorframe before he poked his head inside. Hammond waved him in. The General was dressed; cotton checked short-sleeved shirt, beige pants and brown leather lace-up shoes. He looked comfortable. He gestured at Jack to take a seat.

'More coffee?' Hammond asked. He indicated the pot on his desk. 'I made fresh.'

'I'm good.' Jack replied, retaking the same chair he had used before. 'Thank you.' His lips twisted. 'For everything.'

Hammond shrugged. His eyes twinkled. 'I swore after the last time I wouldn't be surprised by anything again.'

'About the last time, sir,' Jack began, 'I just want to apologise for zatting you.'

'Yes, well,' Hammond raised his mug, 'it did save my career.'

The knock echoed down the hallway.

'She's right on time.' Hammond noted, getting to his feet. He walked out to answer the door.

'She always is.' Jack murmured under his breath. He rose and paced to the window. It looked out over the large back garden. There was a marquee set up at the very back obviously in preparation for Susan's birthday bash. The children's play area had been tidied away but Jack could see the usual swing and play house in his mind's eye. The memory of playing with Hammond's granddaughters with Teal'c sprang forward.

The Jaffa had played along gainfully with the two little girls as they had pretended to have a teddy bear's tea party. The image of Teal'c perched on a small stool with an even smaller tea cup in his hand raised a reluctant smile.

He looked blindly back at the colourful flowers that edged the lawn. He turned slightly at the murmur of voices and braced himself to greet Carter. She wasn't his wife, he reminded himself briskly, and he couldn't give her any indication of what they would become. He had to treat her like any other young military officer. He had no idea how he was going to do it.

'…I'll explain in just a moment.' The Texan twang drifted through the door a moment before Carter appeared ahead of Hammond.

God, she looked young. Her honey-blonde hair was cut short. It was reminiscent of the style she had worn the first couple of years in the programme; some length on top with bangs falling over her forehead, but short at the nape and cut into the shape of her head at the back. Her creamy skin was flawless; her eyes the same stunning shade of blue. More, there wasn't a hint of the shadows that haunted her in later life. Her face was free of the stress lines a decade of fighting had left behind.

This, Jack remembered, was a Carter without the memories of a Tok'ra symbiote nor the strange blood chemistry it had left her with. Her casual outfit added to the youthful impression; blue fitted jeans, tank top with a checked over-shirt. He felt old and was absurdly pleased to be in his younger body. He really had to get to the gym when he got back to the future.

She was looking at him was abashed curiosity and he realised with a start that he was staring.

'Captain Samantha Carter.' Hammond pointed at Jack as he closed the door. 'Colonel Jack O'Neill.'

'Captain.' Jack nodded at her sharply and didn't offer his hand.

'Colonel.' Sam had straightened automatically at the introduction but she returned his nod with one of her own.

'Shall we sit down?' Hammond said authoratively.

They all moved. Carter stepped back to allow Jack to choose a chair first but he gestured for her to go ahead. They weren't exactly on duty and he'd never been big on insisting on protocol. She sat down in the one he had favoured and he hid a smile as he took the other chair.

Hammond gestured back at the coffee pot and Jack nodded. He needed something to do with his hands. Carter thanked Hammond as he offered her a mug. There was a short delay as they all settled with their drinks. Jack avoided looking at her; he kept his gaze forward.

'Captain, we need your help.' Hammond began. 'What we're about to tell you is strictly top secret and is subject to the highest security classification.'

Sam nodded. 'Of course, sir.' Her blue eyes flickered to Jack's and he saw the curiosity swimming in the depths before she turned her gaze back to Hammond.

Hammond cleared his throat. 'Some time in the next couple of years, the device you're currently working on will be activated.'

Jack saw Carter pale. She was probably under the impression that nobody outside of her command knew about the Stargate. Her fingers tightened nervously on her mug. 'Sir, I don't know…'

'This isn't a test, Captain.' Jack interrupted her.

Her head snapped around to him.

'You're thinking this is some kind of security or loyalty test to prove that you can maintain the secrecy of the work you're performing at Cheyenne Mountain for Catherine Langford.' Jack informed her. 'It isn't.'

Sam's mouth dropped open slightly and he knew he'd taken her aback both by the knowledge he'd imparted and the fact that he'd hit the nail on the head about her thinking.

'The Colonel is correct.' Hammond supported him quickly. 'This isn't a test. I know we're not supposed to know and when this is over we're all going to go back to pretending that we don't.'

'Sir,' Sam shifted in her chair, 'all I can say officially is that I'm working on deep space radar telemetry.' She shot Jack a suspicious glance. 'Maybe I should leave.'

He smiled tightly; he'd forgotten how much of a by-the-book-officer she had been. His Carter tended to be more relaxed about the rules after her years of experience. 'Relax, Carter. We're not here to quiz you on the Stargate.' He leaned forward. 'All you need to know is that at some point in the future it works, we travel to other planets and at some point in that future I touch some alien box thing and end up back here in my old body.'

Sam blinked at his bluntness and shot a glance at Hammond.

'He's telling the truth.' Hammond confirmed. 'Colonel O'Neill is from the future.'

'Time travel is theoretical,' Sam began.

'Not anymore.' Jack said sharply. He held her gaze. 'We've had some experience before now.' He grimaced. 'In the future.'

'This is crazy.' Sam stated. She looked over at Hammond accusingly as she set down her coffee. 'Is this some kind of weird joke?'

Hammond shook his head. 'Sam, please. Trust me. This is very real. We need your help to get Colonel O'Neill back to where he belongs.'

'Please.' Jack implored her. He figured she was a hair's breadth away from walking out of the study.

Sam looked at him. The mix of confusion and wariness she was feeling telegraphed from her unguarded expression clearly.

'Please.' Jack repeated softly. 'I really do need your help.' He knew if there was one thing that would sway Carter from the rules it was her compassionate heart.

She darted a look at Hammond who nodded at her. Sam sighed and turned back to him. She picked up her coffee. 'You're really from the future?'

Jack nodded. 'Yes, from…'

'Don't tell us when.' Sam cut him off. 'If this is real, you shouldn't tell us anything that might compromise the future timeline. According to chaos theory that you're here at all might have already changed it beyond recognition.'

Jack smiled. Now that sounded like his Carter. She looked at him strangely. 'Sorry.' He waved at her to continue.

'I'm not sure how I can help you.' Sam confessed. 'Like I said, time travel is still theoretical.'

'We're hoping you'll be able to provide some expertise to our guesswork.' Hammond explained. 'Perhaps if we can work out how the Colonel got here, we can find a way for him to return to his own time.'

Sam took a gulp of her drink. 'You should probably tell me everything. I mean, to do with the time travel.'

Jack caught her up; talking with a friend, the box, touching it, waking up that morning. She listened intently; a small frown marred her classic features.

'So, you believe this alien box transported you, or at least your future consciousness, to the past and to a moment you had just been thinking about?' Sam checked.

'I don't see what else it could be.' Jack said. 'I wasn't anywhere near the other means of travelling through time.'

'There are other ways of travelling through time?' Sam asked, spluttering on the sip of coffee she had just swallowed.

'The Stargate, when the wormhole intersects with a solar flare,' Jack hid his smile at her wince, 'and a kind of Ancient space ship we call a puddle-jumper with some kind of temporal device inside of it.'

She looked at him sceptically and he held her gaze allowing her to see the sincerity in his.

'And those experiences don't match this one?' She asked eventually.

Jack shook his head.

'What's different?' Sam pressed.

Jack sighed impatiently. 'I don't see how this matters.'

'Sir, please. It could be important.'

Her blue eyes beseeched him in a familiar way and he got up abruptly, needing to get away from her. He went back to the window and stuffed his hands in his jeans' pockets.

'Time travel through the Stargate involves travelling through the Stargate.' Jack explained, uncomfortable in the position of being the one with the technobabble answers. 'You step into a wormhole and you step out of a wormhole.'

'Your body remains the body you had when you stepped into the wormhole.' Sam muttered.

'Well,' he shot her a look over his shoulder, 'apart from the small matter that it's been dissolved and reassembled by the gate, sure.'

Sam ducked her head to hide a smile. 'And what about this puddle-jumper?'

'Ah, that.' Jack turned back to her and shrugged. 'I don't have personal experience but apparently you get into the puddle-jumper and it takes you to a point in time.'

'So you're in the puddle-jumper when you get there?' Sam checked.

'I guess.' Jack raised an eyebrow. 'Like I said I haven't done it personally. Another me apparently had the pleasure at one point.'

Sam chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully.

Jack shot Hammond a look.

Hammond pressed his lips together. 'What are you thinking, Sam?'

'I'm not sure.' Sam murmured. She stroked the rim of her mug and looked at Jack. ' _This_ meeting didn't happen in the past before?'

'No.' Jack shook his head. 'As far as I remember it was a typical Saturday. I got up, made pancakes, went shopping.' He shrugged. 'Normal stuff.'

'And your memory hasn't altered to compensate for the new stuff.' Sam stated.

Jack pointed at Hammond. 'See I knew that meant something.' He looked back at Sam. 'What does it mean?'

She smiled briefly again. 'I think we only know three things for certain: the box was clearly the trigger for the beginning of your experience, your thoughts had some influence at determining a point in your personal history and that the box only transported your consciousness.'

Jack rocked back on his heels. 'And?'

'And the rest is purely hypothetical.' Sam said firmly. 'The lack of memory alteration might indicate that the time travel follows the quantum bounce theory.'

'Bounce?' Jack queried. 'As in ball?'

'It's a way of getting round the Grandfather paradox.' Sam responded enthusiastically.

'You mean that whole if I travel back in time and kill my Grandfather, my father is never born so I'm never born so I never travel back in time to kill my Grandfather thing.' Jack rushed out. He had listened occasionally.

'Right.' Sam pointed at him. 'Now the Bounce theory suggests that a time traveller can never travel within the timeline in their own universe so whenever time travel occurs they move to a different reality.' She smiled sympathetically at him. 'That probably sounds bizarre.'

'Not so much.' Jack replied dryly without expanding on the reality travelling they'd done in the future. 'So this isn't my reality?' He waved a hand vaguely in the air beside him. Maybe that helped; Teal'c had always claimed that the only reality of consequence was their own. He could live with that. If his Charlie was dead and this Charlie wasn't really his…

'Probably not.' Sam shrugged. 'But there's no way of determining when you go back to the future whether you'll return to your own reality or this one.' She frowned. 'And that's not all there is to consider.'

'It's not?' Jack asked with a sinking feeling.

'No.' Sam looked at him with a fascination that made him feel like he was one of her doohickeys. 'If future you is occupying this body now, where did the past you, I mean the you who exists now go?'

Jack looked at her stunned. It was a question; if he was back in the past, was his past self in the future?


	6. Chapter 6

_Present Day_

Daniel stared at the shiny silver box and frowned. It hadn't stopped glowing. He really didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He took his glasses off and rubbed at his sore eyes. What had possessed Jack to pick the damn thing up, he grumbled to himself. The older man usually knew better but then Jack had been distracted…Daniel sighed. The older man had fallen to the floor unconscious as soon as the box had flashed. Daniel had immediately called the infirmary but there was nothing they had been able to do to revive his friend. Jack remained in a coma although all his other physical vitals were stable.

'It's not emitting any strange radiation but there is an energy signature being transmitted through subspace.' Doctor Bill Lee declared disturbing Daniel's thoughts.

'How's it going in here?' Cameron Mitchell walked into Daniel's office with an expectant look. 'Any progress?'

'Yes.'

'No.'

Daniel and Bill looked at each other askance at the other's answer.

'So that's a no.' Mitchell stated with a long-suffering sigh looking between the two scientists.

Daniel nodded. 'It's a no.'

'Although we do know that the device is still active.' Bill said thrusting his hands into the deep white pockets of his white lab coat. 'And it is not emitting harmful radiation.'

Daniel and Mitchell exchanged a look.

'Bill, why don't you keep…' Daniel waved at the box, 'keep doing whatever it is that you're doing. I'm going to check on Jack.'

Mitchell fell into step beside Daniel as he walked out and headed for the elevator. They entered the compartment before Mitchell spoke again.

'How are you holding up, Jackson?'

Daniel shot him an annoyed look. 'I'm not the one unconscious.'

'Doctor Lam says he's stable.' Mitchell offered comfortingly. 'Except for, you know.'

'The being unconscious.' Daniel completed. He sighed. 'Sam is going to kill me.'

Mitchell slanted a look at him. 'We'll get him back.' He sounded confident.

'We don't know what the device has done to him.' Daniel pointed out.

'Jackson, whatever it's done, you'll undo it.' Mitchell's hand landed heavy and reassuring on Daniel's shoulder.

Daniel nodded because there was nothing else he could do. If it had been Sam he might have confided his fears, but then if it had been Sam they would have been back at the lab working out what had happened exactly with the device. Sam would probably have had it figured out and sorted by now, Daniel mused guiltily. General Landry had decided not to recall her. Sam was settling into her first week on Atlantis and as the new commander there needed to stay where she was. Landry believed Jack would prefer that they try to solve the problem before alerting Sam, and Daniel agreed with him. Jack would hate it if he caused Sam's command to be disturbed.

The elevator deposited them at the infirmary level and Daniel led the way to the small private room Jack occupied.

Teal'c looked up from his position in a chair beside Jack's bedside. The Jaffa hadn't left Jack's side and somehow that made Daniel feel better. At least one of them was looking out for him. Jack looked unusually still. Daniel was too used to him being in constant motion. The stillness reminded him far too much of the time Jack had been frozen in Antarctica. Jack was hooked up to an array of machines, leads and tubes travelling under the covers and disappearing into places Daniel preferred not to consider.

'How is he?' Daniel asked walking up to the bed. He wrapped his arms around his torso, skewing the open BDU shirt he wore.

'There has been no change, Daniel Jackson.' Teal'c informed him briskly. 'He remains as he was.'

'I'll leave you to it.' Mitchell said awkwardly from the doorway. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. 'I'll go and check in on Vala. She was going to check out some reference books we scanned into the computer from Camelot; see if there was anything about the box in there.'

'There is no news.' Teal'c surmised once Mitchell had disappeared. His dark eyes took in Daniel's disheartened expression.

'No.' Daniel shook his head. 'I don't understand it.' He reached behind him and grabbed a chair. He hiked it up to the bedside and sat down.

Jack looked old. For the first time since Daniel had known him, the military man looked his age. Jack's silver hair was turning white. His body shape had changed; there was more weight and bulk. He wasn't as firm or as athletic as he had been in his SG1 days or even as the SGC leader, not that it appeared to matter to Jack or his wife. Daniel knew Jack had gladly swapped his field days for a desk job and more importantly, a chance to be with Sam.

It was Sam's assignment to Atlantis that had been on Jack's mind just before he'd reached for the box, Daniel was sure of it. No matter how much Jack tried to pretend he was fine with Sam in another galaxy, he was clearly not. He was struggling. Maybe Jack's own experiences in Atlantis had something to do with it. He'd almost died at the hands of the Pegasus galaxy Replicators not to mention Jack's own order to nuke the city if it ever fell into enemy hands. Jack would never admit to his experiences influencing his feelings about the city but Daniel had known him for a long time. When Jack took up a grudge against something, he took up a grudge.

Sam deserved the command and she was suited to it. Daniel knew Jack knew that. He also knew Jack was insanely proud of her achievement. For a newly promoted Colonel even one with Sam's experience to be assigned as the overall leader was a coup. Jack would never have wanted his personal bias or needs to stand in the way of Sam gaining such a position. Yet Daniel also knew Sam hadn't really wanted to go. She had hated the idea of leaving Jack and moreover, she had felt uncertain of her command experience for the role; leading SG1 and Area 51 for the relatively short periods she'd done so, and temporarily standing in for General Landry now and again was a long way to leading a command in another galaxy. Sam had gone in the end because she had sworn an oath to go where she was needed; that her duty came first – and because Jack had encouraged her, bolstered her confidence and given her faith in her command ability.

Daniel sighed. In some ways Sam and Jack were still their own worse enemies. They might have married and at least been honest about loving each other but they were still denying themselves the opportunity to be together fully as a couple. None of his business, Daniel reminded himself…but maybe it was time to hint to Jack he should retire again.

Teal'c cleared his throat. 'Do you require any assistance with translating the device, Daniel Jackson?'

'No.' Daniel adjusted his glasses and looked at his Jaffa friend. 'I already translated it.'

'I see.' Teal'c murmured. 'There was no indication of the box's purpose?'

Daniel shook his head again. 'It doesn't really say very much; it says the past can teach. That's it.'

An eyebrow rose up Teal'c's dark smooth forehead. 'Do you believe the device is a means to travel to the past?'

'You mean because of the whole 'past can teach' thing?' Daniel frowned. His blue eyes took on a distant look as he turned over the idea in his head. 'I don't think so.' He gave a small helpless shrug. 'I mean, if it was supposed to take him to the past to learn something, why leave his body here?'

Teal'c inclined his head in agreement with Daniel's argument.

'I mean the whole thing was just weird.' Daniel said miserably. 'One minute he was talking, well, not talking. You know Jack.'

'Indeed.' Teal'c agreed.

'And the next minute he was touching the box because he wanted to distract himself from having to talk…'

Teal'c nodded again. They both knew Jack's tactics almost as well as their own.

'There was a red flash of light and Jack just keeled over.' Daniel finished. He scowled at the unconscious man. 'It must have needed the Ancient gene to activate.'

'Or perhaps the box recognised some lesson O'Neill requires to learn.' Teal'c said calmly.

Daniel looked at him. After so many years of working together he knew when Teal'c had something more to say. 'You're thinking something. What are you thinking?'

'When the child of your late wife taught you a lesson,' Teal'c said, 'was it not you who was inexplicably in a coma then?' He gestured at Jack. 'I believe he is as you were then.'

Daniel stared at him. 'You think the box is a mechanical way of triggering the same kind of teaching Shifu gave me?'

'Shifu is an Ascended being.' Teal'c said. 'And is this box not of Ancient design?'

'I guess it's possible.' Daniel mused. 'The dream Shifu gave me was so real. I felt like I really lived it. Maybe this device just creates a virtual dream of the past; some part of it that's supposed to teach something to the recipient.'

'Perhaps it would explain why O'Neill's body remains present.'

Daniel sprang to his feet. 'I'd better go and check this out. Maybe Carolyn can compare my medical records from back then with what's happening with Jack now.'

'I will remain here.' Teal'c said firmly.

Daniel smiled for the first time since Jack had fallen to his office floor unconscious. 'Indeed.'


	7. Chapter 7

Jack sank back into the chair he had vacated like a deflated balloon. His past self could be in the future? Oh, that was bad. He could see in his mind's eye how past him would react in a future where he wasn't married to Sara and Charlie was dead; the picture wasn't pretty. It was bad.

Very bad.

'I take it from the look on your face that swapping places would not be a good idea.' Hammond murmured.

Jack shook his head. 'You could say that.' He sighed. His last memory of his own time was everything going black and falling. Maybe the only good news was that his past self was likely to wake up in the infirmary. And if he was in the infirmary and suffering from amnesia he'd likely be confined there awhile because of the security implications.

'It's possible that this isn't a two-way transference.' Sam waved a hand at him. 'Your past self might be inside, uh, you. Repressed somehow.'

'Let's hope.' Jack said tersely. It was the best case scenario although it was weird thinking his past self was inside him, somewhere. Of course the worst case scenario was still that his past self was in the future. He shuddered at the idea of his past self waking up and everyone being oblivious to any amnesia, any change. That possible outcome didn't bear thinking about. If his past self returned before Charlie's death and he'd learned about it somehow, it was more than likely that he would stop Charlie from dying. He would have no idea of the wider issues that Jack knew about. All he would know was that his son had died and it was preventable. Maybe he would even consider the trip to the future as a blessing.

Jack sighed heavily. He was going to have to stay; he was going to have to stay until Charlie was dead, just in case...although...if this wasn't his reality, did it matter? He just didn't know. The best plan was to get back to the future where he could check what had happened, and then make a decision, Jack decided. A wave of relief swept through him. OK; get back to the future, check what had happened with his past self and if he needed to, he'd touch the damn box and bring himself back to prevent himself from changing the future. Jack frowned. God, he hated time travel.

'Colonel?' Hammond prompted.

Jack shook his head. He couldn't explain without telling them everything. 'Sorry. It's just...a lot to take in.'

'Colonel.' Sam's sympathy bled through the single word. 'Were there any markings on the box?'

He cast his mind back, conjuring the box from his memory. There had been something written on the top. Ancient script. He nodded. 'Some.'

'Do you know remember what they were?' Sam pressed. 'I'm thinking maybe any writing might have told the user what the box did or how it worked.'

Jack waved a hand toward the legal pad sitting on Hammond's desk and the General passed it over to him with a pen. Jack sketched out the writing.

'I don't understand it.' Sam said apologetically. She tilted her head. 'Although it looks a little like Latin.'

'It's a variant.' Jack tapped the paper thoughtfully as he stared at the words.

'Do you know what it says?' Sam prompted impatiently.

Jack regarded the words. It had been a long time since he had spent months translating Ancient and having the language downloaded into his head – twice – didn't seem to help his English to Ancient abilities much.

'Colonel.' Hammond pressed.

'Give me a minute.' Jack looked at the words again. 'This word is to teach.' He said finally. 'And this means the past. The past teaches.' He threw the pad back down on the desk. 'I think. I'm not the linguist. That's Daniel's gig.'

'Well, it would certainly substantiate your theory of time travel.' Hammond noted.

Sam frowned. 'It's certainly a convenient translation.'

She steadfastly didn't look at Jack and he slowly realised why. 'You don't think I've travelled back in time.' He pointed at her. 'You think I'm making this up; that I'm nuts.'

Her cheeks flooded with a delicate pink but she didn't deny it.

'Tell me, Carter,' Jack snapped, suddenly angry, 'who could make this up?'

'Put yourself in my shoes, sir.' Sam said forcefully. 'There is no evidence to support your story except a translation that you provided yourself to a language that we cannot verify even exists.'

Jack looked at her blankly. He was just so used to Carter trusting him that the fact that she didn't stunned him. Not that he could blame her. If she had turned up in his life at this point claiming to be from the future and requesting his help, he might have considered her nuts too.

Hammond cleared his throat. 'Actually, there is.'

Both of them looked at Hammond in shock.

'Sir?' Sam questioned.

'The Colonel told you that they had experience with time travel. During one of those incidents, he and his team travelled to nineteen-sixty-nine where I encountered them.' Hammond explained. 'I found a note from myself telling me to help them so I did. The man I met in nineteen-sixty-nine is the same man you've met today; Colonel O'Neill. He looks very much as he did then. More, the only way he would know about that incident enough to find me again now, to try and elicit my help again, would be if he truly was the same man I met back then. If you don't believe him; believe me.'

Sam frowned and Jack could see the wheels turning in her head.

'I know this is a leap for you.' Jack commented quietly. 'But I really need your help. I need you to get past whether this is real or not and help me.'

She looked at him and he let her gaze scour his expression. He hoped she could see his sincerity. Hell, he hoped she saw his desperation; anything that would make her believe him. He felt a wave of longing for his own Carter.

Eventually, Sam sighed. 'The box may provide a way of time travel,' she conceded, 'and we should probably proceed on that basis.' She bit her lip. 'We should also proceed on the basis that even though your memories are not being altered to compensate for the changes in events that this could be linear.'

Jack stared at her. 'What?'

'This could all be your own reality.' Sam waved an arm around the room. 'Your actions here could impact your future.'

Jack nodded. Whether it was his reality or not, whatever theory of time travel was in fact real, the fact remained that he needed to get out of there.

'I do have a theory but I don't think you're going to like it very much.' Sam said apologetically.

Jack waved a hand at her indicating for her to go ahead and hit him with it.

'You said the text said the past teaches?' Sam checked.

He nodded. 'Yep. That's what I said.'

'If the box is the mechanism by which this transfer was initiated and it is trying to teach you something from having you relive your past history,' Sam said, 'I think it's possible given the box hasn't come with you in some way that the only way for this to end is either for the box's mechanism to be reversed in your own time or…'

'Or?' Hammond prompted when Sam remained silent.

'Or for me to relive the past as it intended.' Jack finished.

Sam nodded.

She'd been right. He hated her theory but knowing it was her theory, it was likely correct. Without the box, he had no way back to the future.

Damn.

No way back. No way to avoid what was coming. Not to mention the whole question on his past self or what reality he was currently in. Not that it mattered as Sam had indicated he had to proceed on the basis that his actions had consequences. Had he mentioned how much he hated time travel?

His head was spinning.

'I'm sorry.' Sam's hand landed on his arm and she blushed as he looked at it. She removed it hastily. 'I don't think I've helped very much.'

Jack shrugged. 'Not your fault, Carter.'

'So what now?' Hammond asked gruffly.

'The box wanted you to relive this to learn something.' Sam said. 'Once it's over, it will probably return your consciousness to the future.'

Jack sighed. He rubbed a hand furiously through his hair. He'd learnt all the painful lessons he needed the last time he'd been through losing Charlie. He couldn't do it again.

'I need to disappear for the next few days.' Jack said out loud. 'Make sure I interact with the timeline as little as possible.'

Sam shook her head. 'With respect, sir, I don't think that's the best plan of action.'

'The more I interact with the timeline, the more likely it is that I will change it.' Jack noted bitingly. He avoided her gaze. This time, he didn't want her to see how desperate he was; how much he did not want to live through the next few days of his past.

'Only if you change what you did originally.' Sam argued. 'In the previous timeline, you must have gone places, interacted with people over the next few days. If you don't then you risk changing the timeline.'

'So, you're saying the only way for me to be certain that I don't change the timeline is to resume my previous life.' Jack clarified ignoring the churn of panic settling into his gut.

'It's possible that your interactions might not affect the outcome one way or another but…' Sam shrugged, 'it's also possible that by avoiding reliving your life that you never fulfil the box's purpose and…'

'And get stuck here.' Jack grimaced. 'Great.'

'I don't think you have a choice here, son.' Hammond said regretfully.

Choiceless.

Yeah.

Jack had already learned that lesson.


	8. Chapter 8

The plan seemed simple enough when Jack left Hammond and Carter back at the General's house; return to his previous life and carry on. Of course Hammond and Carter had no idea what Jack was facing in the next few days. Oh, Hammond knew there was something traumatic that would happen but Jack had refrained from explaining the full horror of his son picking up his handgun and shooting himself. Parked at the end of his road and staring at his old house, Jack was having second, third and fourth thoughts about his ability to follow through with the plan.

It made sense.

He was in his younger body. He had spent the weekend before Charlie's death with his family, doing ordinary every day things that all families did. At the time, it had seemed unremarkable. Most of his interaction had been with Sara and Charlie but he guessed there had been people at the grocery store, the gas station, the park. He didn't know how his presence might have made a difference to the whole grand scheme of things but he guessed that was Carter's point. If he was suddenly absent from events, maybe someone would turn left instead of right and things would transpire differently. Maybe Sara would notice the gun left lying outside of the lockbox…

Jack sighed. As much as he wanted to believe that this wasn't his reality and that his actions would not have consequences, that it wouldn't matter where he was or what he was doing, he knew he couldn't take the risk. Protecting the timeline was his duty; his first and only responsibility and for that he had to restart his truck, drive into his driveway, tell Sara the mission had been cancelled and spend the weekend with his ex-wife and son.

He couldn't do it.

He couldn't walk back up to the house and pretend that everything was normal. He'd gotten over the urge to wish for everything to be back the way it was a long time ago. Charlie had died; he'd lost Sara and his marriage, and while he would always regret those events – could never forget them – they were part of his past. He had moved on; slowly, surely, painfully at times. And he had found happiness in his future; a purpose, friends, family…Carter. He leaned back in his seat. How could he spend a whole weekend with his ex-wife pretending feelings that he no longer had and more, pretending that he wasn't in love with someone else?

He rubbed his forehead. It just wasn't going to work, Jack mused. But he had to try. The timeline required him to be Sara's husband and Charlie's father. That's all. It wasn't as though he needed to do anything extraordinary like sneak onto a Goa'uld ship and blow it up. He pulled a face. All things considered, he would rather be locked in a room full of Goa'uld – he had no conflicted emotions about that particular scenario. Not to mention he'd had his team with him. He felt another wave of longing to get back to the future. All he had to do to get there, Jack reminded himself briskly, was live through the next few days.

His hand reached for the ignition and he turned the key, gunning the engine back into life. He pulled out from where he had parked and drove the short distance to the house. He pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The house loomed in front of him.

Jack wet his lips. Nausea roiled in his gut. Choiceless, he reminded himself. He pushed open the truck door and headed to the house. He breathed in sharply as he entered the house.

'Jack?' Sara hurried into the hallway. She was dressed; jeans, a green sweater that had seen better days. She was wiping her hands on a cloth. A smile lit up her face. 'You're back early.'

'Mission got cancelled.' Jack said, accepting the kiss she bestowed on his cheek before easing away and hanging up his parka. He threw his wallet, keys and phone back on the hall table and toed off his sneakers.

'Well, I can't say I'm disappointed.' Sara quipped as she led the way back into the kitchen.

'Where's Charlie?' Jack asked, noticing the remnants of pancakes as he leaned back against the breakfast bar.

'Upstairs, brushing his teeth.' Sara got a mug from the cupboard and poured Jack a coffee. She handed it to him and he took it with a forced smile. 'I know what you're going to ask and yes, he's still mad at you about the water pistol.' She kissed him lightly, moving away before he had to respond. 'Thank you by the way for holding firm on that.'

'We agreed.' Jack said stiffly. He'd forgotten that Charlie had been mad at him at the start of the weekend; a child's anger at being denied a toy.

'I know,' Sara plunged her hands back into the soapy water, 'but I've been thinking you were right that maybe we've taken the whole thing too seriously.'

A half-remembered discussion bubbled up in his mind; Charlie had been so mad at him and Jack had told Sara that maybe they were making too big a deal about a water pistol. She had thrown that argument back at him when Charlie had died.

'You want something to eat?'

His stomach turned over at the thought. 'No. Thank you.' Jack raised the mug. 'Just the coffee.'

Sara looked over her shoulder at him with a quizzical look. 'You OK?'

Jack nodded and hid his face in the mug. 'It's just been a strange morning.'

Sara stopped washing dishes and stepped up in front of him. She slid her arms around his waist and he forced himself to remain still. 'Can you talk about it?'

'Nope.' Jack pulled a face. He gave her a quick squeeze. 'I'm going to go change.' He pulled out from her loose embrace.

'Jack.' Sara stopped him as he reached the doorway and he looked warily over his shoulder at her. She was back at the sink. 'Can you check on Charlie?' She glanced at him. 'If you two spend some time together this weekend, I think he'll get past it.'

Jack nodded sharply. He remembered that too. Charlie and he had made up by the end of the weekend. It had been a small comfort after his death. He walked up the stairs and headed for the family bathroom on the landing. The door was partially open and Jack knocked loudly before he entered.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at him, a toothbrush in his mouth. He was in his pyjamas and looked adorable. His bangs were falling in his wide brown eyes; freckles dotted his skin. Jack felt such a wave of love he almost couldn't stand. He slumped against the door jamb. This was his son. _His son._

'Hey.' Jack croaked the word out. 'You doing OK?'

Charlie nodded, oblivious to his father's unease. 'Uh-huh.'

'You want some help getting ready?' Jack asked gently, dredging his memory for the parenting that had once seemed so natural to him.

Charlie shook his head, sending the blond strands flying. 'I can do it.' He mumbled around the toothbrush.

'OK, sport.' Jack inched out the bathroom and leaned up against the wall on the landing. He let his head fall back against the wall. God, he could not do this. One interaction with his son and he all he wanted to do was gather Charlie up and take him somewhere where he would be safe. Run away and never look back.

He had to get a grip.

Jack headed into his bedroom and stripped exchanging one set of jeans and sweater for another. Saturday ritual in the O'Neill house involved doing the grocery shop after breakfast. He checked in on Charlie but his son was already gone from the bedroom; the bed haphazardly made. It wouldn't meet Sara's standards but Jack sneaked in and adjusted the cover, picked up the laundry and popped it into the basket. He swayed under a strong sense of déjà vu. He had done the very same thing the very same day back in his past.

Memories cascaded through him. The pyjamas would remain in the basket for weeks until Sara finally cleaned them. She would spend the whole day sobbing into the washing and Jack would spend the whole time in an alcoholic daze refusing to notice.

Damn.

He lowered his head as another jolt of pain hit. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to get through this?

'Jack! Are you ready?' Sara's shout jerked him out of his thoughts.

He brushed a hand over his face and headed down. They made their way out and piled into the truck. Jack drove on autopilot to their usual store. He kept quiet, thankful that Sara was used to his silences.

The shopping trip was uneventful but Jack could barely look at most things they put in the cart. He knew a lot of it would still be in the refrigerator and the cupboards after Monday. Sara would hold out on throwing away the cereal Charlie loved; it had been on the shelf when Jack got back from Abydos.

They made another few stops; the gardening centre to pick up some plants Sara would plant the day Charlie would die, the garage to arrange a service on Sara's car that she would miss because it would be the day they buried Charlie, and the dry cleaners to pick up a suit Sara would end up wearing at the funeral.

Jack spent the entire time feeling like he was being tortured. He was tired and irritable by the time they got back to the house and silent through the sandwiches Sara fixed for lunch. She must have picked up on his mood because she pushed him and Charlie gently in the direction of the yard for the afternoon.

He tried to focus on the work; tidying borders, raking up leaves and trimming bushes. It was physical and time-consuming but the presence of his son tore at his heart with every small interaction. He praised Charlie absently for collecting up some debris as they threw the rubbish on a makeshift bonfire.

Sara whistled from the deck outside the back of the house and she waved at the lemonade and cookies she left out on the patio table.

'Guess that's our cue to take a break.' Jack said brightly; too brightly. He led his son to the table and they sat down. Jack handed Charlie one of the glasses and watched as Charlie took a first slurp, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand and leaving a muddy streak across his top lip. He looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards; his clothes were grimy, his young face had a sheen of sweat and muck, his blond hair, burnished gold by the afternoon sun, was sticking up everywhere. Jack had to look away; his eyes stinging with tears he refused to shed.

'Are you still mad at me, Daddy?'

The blunt question startled Jack into looking at his son again. 'No.' Jack didn't even have to think about his answer. 'I'm not mad at you.' He had been. He could remember that in the worst of his grief he'd been angry, furiously angry at Charlie; for wanting the water pistol, for picking up Jack's gun when he knew better, for dying and leaving him. But that had been a long time ago.

''Cause I'm really sorry about the water pistol.' Charlie continued, oblivious to Jack's thoughts.

'I know you are.' They'd had this conversation before and Jack had said no more; no less. He hadn't told Charlie that he wanted him to forget about the water pistol and not to go looking for it. Maybe if he had it would have made a difference; the words hovered on his lips. Jack gave into the urge to touch Charlie. He reached over and ruffled his son's hair. 'You think we can get the yard done today?'

'If we do, can we go to the park tomorrow?' Charlie asked excitedly. His face was lit up with childish delight and Jack swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat. He'd forgotten that look on Charlie's face. How had he forgotten?

'Sure.' Jack agreed readily and wondered how he was going to keep the promise. He wasn't certain he would make it to the next day. Or the day after that…he swallowed the lemonade and wished it was beer or something harder. 'Come on. Let's get to it.'

They went back to work and the sun was beginning to set when they called it a day. Sara greeted them with a smile and a hug for Charlie. She opened her arms to hug Jack.

Jack tried to side-step her, pulling at his sweater, but she caught him. 'I'm sweaty.' He protested.

'I know. I like you like that.' Sara leaned in for a kiss. He tried to ignore the prickles of guilt as he kissed her back softly and tried not to think about Carter.

'Oh, gross.' Charlie pulled a face. 'You're kissing again.'

Sara winked at Jack, stealing another kiss before she released him and headed to the stove. 'Charlie, go and get your bath.'

Charlie scampered out of the kitchen and Jack frowned as something began to buzz. Maybe it was his head, Jack thought tiredly.

'You're not going to answer your phone?' Sara asked.

Jack looked around with a frown.

Phone. Right. Hallway. Jack gave a sheepish smile and headed out. He picked up the cell and pressed the answer button – or what he hoped was the answer button. 'O'Neill.'

'Colonel? It's Captain Carter.' Sam replied hesitantly. 'We met this morning. General Hammond gave me your number.'

'Yes, Captain.' Jack answered dryly. 'I know who you are.' He moved into the den and closed the door. He figured he would need some privacy.

'Well, I, uh, I'm sorry to call you, but I've been thinking.'

Of course she had; she was Carter.

'And?' Jack prompted.

'You mentioned that you weren't a linguist so I began to wonder if the translation you did of the markings on the box might not be completely exact and if we had an exact translation maybe it would help.'

'You mean I might have missed something.' Jack summarised.

'I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to imply…'

'It's OK, Carter.' Jack used the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe away the sweat on his brow. 'You're probably right.'

'So, I called General Hammond and he mentioned the name of Daniel Jackson? Your colleague in the future? I believe he's an archaeologist which makes sense if he's the one who had the artefact in the first place, and then it occurred to me that…'

'Captain.' Jack sighed. He'd forgotten how much Carter had talked those first few months before she learned to cut to the chase for him.

'Well, he's an expert on artefacts and I'm not; so he may have more insight into this than I do or General Hammond.'

'Carter, if we call Daniel, we'll…I'll end up meeting him before I'm supposed to and won't that change the timeline?' Jack pointed out, exasperated.

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

'You've already talked to him, haven't you?' Jack slapped a hand over his face.

'I faxed him the symbols you sketched out and asked him for an opinion.' Sam hastened to reassure him. 'I didn't tell him anything else, sir.'

'Do the words top secret and classified mean anything to you, Carter?' Jack shot back.

'Sir, respectfully, I think we need his help.'

She had a point.

'OK.' Jack checked his watch. 'I'll call him and talk to him about the symbols; what's his number?'

'Actually, he's lecturing at a hotel in Denver tonight at the invitation of a local archaeology group.' Sam informed him briskly. 'I thought I would just drive over and meet with him briefly.'

'I'll drive over and meet with him.' Jack corrected. 'You have a party to go to, remember?'

'But, sir…' Sam began to protest.

'Captain, you said it yourself; this weekend should proceed as it did before as much as it possibly can.' Jack said firmly. 'That means you get to go to the ball and I'll go meet with Daniel. All I had planned was dinner with my family.'

'I guess you're right.' Sam sighed and he could tell she was disappointed.

He closed his eyes briefly. He hated disappointing her and the temptation to agree that she should accompany him anyway was strong. He missed her – or rather future Carter, the one who was in Atlantis kicking Wraith butt.

'I appreciate the thought, Carter.' Jack said. 'What's the hotel?'

'The MacDonald.' Sam told him without any further argument. 'Good luck, sir.'

'Thanks, and Carter?'

'Sir?'

'Thank you.' Jack ended the call before he could change his mind about taking her with him. He checked his watch; he needed to shower, change and hit the road. He darted back into the kitchen. 'Sara…'

'Don't tell me.' Sara waved a wooden spoon at him. 'They've called you in after all.'

'I'm just going to shower and then I'll head out.' Jack said crisply. He wasted no more time on explanations. His shower took five minutes; he dressed in two. He took a moment to say goodbye to Charlie, relishing the childish hug his son gave him before he left the house and refusing to acknowledge being torn between relief at leaving and hope that he would see his son again. He had been driving for half an hour when he realised that he hadn't said goodbye to Sara or exchanged their usual ritual. He shrugged the guilt away. Maybe Carter and Hammond hadn't been able to find a way out of this for him, but maybe Daniel would.


	9. Chapter 9

It was surprising how much the traffic systems had changed. It took Jack longer than he had anticipated to find his way through the streets and it was late by the time he reached the hotel. He ran up the steps and into the foyer almost afraid he would have missed Daniel. There was a large white sign in the reception declaring where the lecture 'Ancient Egypt and the Truth' was taking place. It pointed toward a conference room at the back of the hotel.

Jack wasted no time. He rushed down the corridor, opened the doors and stepped into the big room. He stopped short at the sight of the empty red seats. He caught his breath and let the door shut quietly behind him.

Damn. Disappointment swept over him. He had missed Daniel.

Suddenly, his ears caught on a sound at the far end of the room in the shadows and he took a few steps forward towards it. A hunched figure was muttering over a stack of books that he had evidently dropped. Jack made out Daniel's lanky form and almost smiled. He hurried over to him.

'Here. Let me help you with those.' Jack crouched. He gathered the books together before he stood up and handed them to Daniel.

'Uh, thanks.' Daniel smiled shyly at him through a flop of hair that covered his face.

Jack waved the expression of gratitude away. ''S'OK.'

Daniel looked at him quizzically. 'Can I, er, help you? With something?'

'Yeah,' Jack motioned at him, 'my colleague faxed you over some writing that we wanted you to take a look at for us?'

'Oh, of course.' Daniel shoved his books onto a table. 'Fascinating writing. A derivative of Latin, right? I haven't seen it before. Where was it found?'

'Classified.' Jack said succinctly.

'Oh.' Daniel stopped rooting through his briefcase long enough to blink at him owlishly. 'Really?'

'Really.' Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

'Do I, er, need to sign some kind of confidentiality agreement or something?' Daniel adjusted his glasses nervously.

'Don't worry about it.' Jack said.

'Right.' Daniel gave a brittle smile. 'I mean, who would believe me anyway? I'm crazy.'

'Hey.' Jack said firmly, grabbing Daniel's attention. 'You're not crazy.'

Daniel speared him with a suspicious look but when he realised Jack wasn't being sarcastic, it clearly disconcerted him.

'The writing?' Jack prompted, gesturing at the briefcase.

'Oh.' Daniel searched through a stack of loose paper. 'I am going to get paid for this, right?'

'Sure.' Jack lied blithely.

'OK, well, I'm sure it's here somewhere.' Daniel shoved some back into his briefcase and rifled through another file.

Jack waited impatiently. Daniel had gradually lost the absent-minded professor thing half-way through the first year of the Stargate programme. It surfaced occasionally when he got completely excited or enthused about something but never in the field. Daniel had become a competent soldier and Jack wondered whether he should be sad at that or pleased.

'Ah. Here.' Daniel pulled out a dog-eared page. 'So, do I get to know anything about where this was found or the context?' He indicated for Jack to take a seat in the first row and he sat down a seat or two further along, placing the paper between them.

'It was found on a small metal box.' Jack explained. He crossed his arms over his chest, pulling the sweater he wore taut over his muscles.

Daniel frowned at the writing. 'Well, it's kind of hard coming up with something with so little.'

'Try, please.' Jack urged. 'This is important.'

Daniel glanced up at him and back down at the page. 'This word means the past; what has gone before. And this,' he frowned, 'the verb teach…the past can teach.'

Jack sighed.

'How did I do?' Daniel asked, fidgeting with the pencil he held.

'Good.' Jack waved at the paper. 'I got the same thing. I was hoping I was wrong.'

Daniel stared at him. 'You can translate this?'

'A little.' Jack smiled grimly. 'A friend taught me some of the language a long time ago for a project.'

'Oh.' Daniel looked at him curiously. 'Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be of any help really. I mean, if there was something more that was written or if I understood the context…'

Jack hesitated. The temptation to confide in Daniel was too strong. The younger man had always had a different perspective and Jack found himself craving it. 'Hypothetically,' he began.

'Hypothetically.' Daniel repeated with a tinge of sarcasm.

'Hypothetically,' Jack stated again, shooting Daniel a warning look, 'a man finds the box and touches it. He finds himself back in his own past, waking in his younger body.' He looked down at the floor. 'He knows that the moment he has arrived at is one where, in a matter of days, he'll go through an enormous personal trauma; his son will die. But he also knows that if he changes his history, if he saves his son, then the future will change, and he might place the security of Earth in danger.'

'Hypothetically.' Daniel repeated with more sarcasm. 'This is a joke, isn't it? Some kind of wind up?' He lurched to his feet and looked around widely, spinning from side to side. 'Where are the cameras?'

Jack's heart sank. 'No cameras.' He got to his feet; his jaw tensing. 'This was a mistake. I'll see you.' He made to walk out and was half-way down the aisle when Daniel called out for him to wait.

He paused and turned around.

Daniel stood by the lectern, his arms wrapped protectively around his torso. 'You're serious.'

Jack nodded.

Daniel walked up to him slowly. 'You think this box sent the man back in time to learn a lesson by reliving his past?'

'Yes.' Jack replied. 'That's the theory.'

'It would fit with the writing although…' Daniel wet his lips and strode back to the books on his table. Jack followed him. 'There's a passage in an old English manuscript which was believed to have survived the Dark Ages that might…' he grabbed one of his books and opened it, skipping to the right page and thrusting it back at Jack forcing him to take hold of it.

'The manuscript,' Daniel continued, falling into lecture mode, 'detailed a story in which the Wizard Merlin gave a box to Arthur. The box allowed Arthur to examine the past, enabling him to learn something that helped him resolve a problem that was weighing on his soul.'

'Examine?' Jack questioned. 'That sounds…like he was just observing it or something.'

'Well, it remains vague about the detail of how the box worked.' Daniel admitted. 'Maybe there was a problem you, I mean,' he caught himself when Jack glared at him, 'the man was wrestling with just before he touched the box.'

Jack grimaced. He hadn't confided his feelings about Carter's assignment to future Daniel and he didn't intend to start confiding them to past Daniel. 'Maybe.' He said evenly. He gestured with the book. 'Does it say how the magic box was turned off?'

'Uh.' Daniel shook his head, sending the longish strands dancing. 'No. Like I said nothing so specific but I would think that's fairly obvious.'

'You mean he has to relive his past again in order to get back to his future.' Jack slammed the book shut. 'Yeah, I know that already.'

'Actually, I was thinking more that he had to resolve the original problem.' Daniel said mildly.

Jack looked at him in surprise. 'The original problem?'

Daniel nodded enthusiastically. 'The box is trying to help the man find the answer to his current issues. If the man can resolve them by working out what lesson he is meant to learn from that particular point in his life,' he shrugged, 'I would think that would effectively complete the lesson and the box would, uh, stop.'

Jack sat down heavily in a chair and looked at the book in his hand. He had no idea how to resolve the issue he had with Carter being in Atlantis. He guessed admitting he had an issue was the first step forward. He put the book aside and leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. And what did Charlie's death have to do with Carter being in Atlantis? Sure he'd been thinking about it and about how, maybe, some of the loneliness felt the same but he didn't think this time of his life was going to help with that.

'You know in the myth Arthur considered the magic box as a gift from Merlin because the past events he witnessed were the circumstances of his birth.' Daniel said quietly, taking the seat beside him.

'Some gift.' Jack muttered.

Daniel shifted; Jack could hear the rustle of the tweed jacket the other man wore. 'Arthur thought it was; he got to see his parents who he never met during his life. I don't know. I, uh, lost my parents when I was younger. I would love the opportunity to see them again.'

'But could you watch them die again knowing you couldn't save them?' Jack asked. He already knew the answer. Daniel had been through the experience in their Stargate travels in a virtual environment.

'It would be hard.' Daniel admitted. 'Difficult. Maybe impossible. I'm not sure I would be able to stop myself from trying to save them.'

'There you go.' Jack pressed his lips together tightly against the emotion that choked his voice.

'I know it would be difficult, maybe impossible not to focus on saving his son but maybe if the man valued the opportunity of enjoying his son again even for this short period; maybe it would make it easier.' Daniel continued.

'I don't think I ca…could do it.' Jack looked at his friend and was unsurprised to see Daniel looking back at him compassionately.

'Maybe all the good things that he can't see because he's focusing on the trauma ahead are part of the lesson.' Daniel murmured. 'Hypothetically speaking.'

'Hypothetically speaking.' Jack agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment.

'I, um, I should go.' Daniel said softly, pointing at the door. 'I'm on the late bus so…it was good to meet you.'

'Thank you.' Jack said gruffly.

Daniel nodded. He stood and gathered his things.

'Doctor Jackson.' Jack called out as Daniel reached the door and the archaeologist turned to look back at him in surprise. 'If we meet and I ignore this meeting...' Jack said awkwardly.

Daniel smiled engimatically and left. Jack sighed. It echoed around the vast room. He didn't know if he had learned anything new. He got to his feet, unsure where to go next; what to do next.


	10. Chapter 10

Jack wandered into the hotel bar without any real sense of purpose. He simply knew he needed a drink and the quiet understated elegance of the hotel appealed. He slid onto a stool by the long mahogany polished bar and ordered a beer from the mature and polite barman.

'… _he had to resolve the original problem.'_

Daniel's voice echoed in his head. Solve the original problem. Sure. Easy. Jack gulped back his drink and stared into the amber depths.

What was the original problem exactly? That was his first issue because he really had no idea.

He missed his wife. Nothing new there. He'd missed Carter all the time when they were separated, and they'd been separated most of their marriage, a necessity of their both remaining serving officers and their tangled personal lives. She had taken a posting at Area 51 and he had taken the Washington assignment. His position was supposed to have been temporary, maybe just over a year at the outside. He was meant to simply provide the President with some cover in the wake of General Hammond's retirement while Landry was seasoned by a year at the SGC.

Then the Ori had happened, hell had broken loose and before either of them had time to assimilate that they were back fighting an impossibly advanced enemy, Carter had been reassigned back to the SGC at the behest of the IOA and the President had pointedly refused to let Jack retire. He wasn't even sure he would have retired then even if it hadn't been made so clear to him it wouldn't be accepted. Earth had been in danger and he'd felt a responsibility to stay around and keep it safe even if that meant he and Carter remained separated.

Only they hadn't; not really.

Carter had taken missions off-world but when she was Earth-side, they talked on the phone every night and even during the day they exchanged instant messages, texts, emails. Instant communication. If he missed her, she was merely a call away. He'd visited most weekends; sometimes he'd worked from the SGC when SG1 had been on Earth. They'd been separated but compared to an officer stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan, they'd had it relatively easy.

Atlantis was more comparable. Carter was stationed in enemy territory and communication was sporadic. There would be communiqués and messages home when Atlantis dialled in to make its reports but Jack knew she wouldn't abuse the system just as he wouldn't ignore protocol and simply visit without due cause. She was to all extents and purposes out of reach. For the first time in their marriage, they were truly separated, and she was more at risk then ever.

He didn't fool himself; his own sojourn to the city of the Ancients had proven to Jack how much danger existed in the Pegasus galaxy; Replicators, the Wraith, not to mention Sheppard and McKay who both seemed to have a talent for tripping into trouble. Carter was in danger every single minute she was there. And what was worse, was not that they were separated, not that she was in danger, but that he, Jack O'Neill had played a major part in getting Carter assigned to Atlantis.

Jack drained the glass as though to wash away the thought and briskly ordered a second. From the moment Elizabeth Weir had been left behind on the Replicator homeworld, the IOA had started searching for a replacement. There was a list – there was always a list – and Carter's name had always been on it as had Daniel's. Yet it had only been when Richard Woolsey had suggested Carter because of the military expertise she would add to the expedition given the multiple threats they were facing that Jack had realised the possibility might become a reality. When he'd finally been asked his opinion he'd been unable to ignore what a fantastic opportunity it was for her and he had supported the recommendation, supported his wife being posted to another galaxy and placed in danger.

She hadn't wanted to go. He'd seen that in her eyes when she'd received the call from the President. She had been uncertain; about whether she was ready, about her command experience, about what it meant for them. He'd been the one to reassure she was ready. He'd been the one to confidently tell her that they would be fine; that the separation was OK. Jack wondered briefly if Carter knew he hadn't wanted her to go despite his words. He was alarmed to realise that maybe some of his unease, some of the fear he didn't want to admit to, was that she didn't. That maybe she thought he had wanted to put distance between them when the possibility existed that she could die - at the hands of the Replicators, or the Wraith...or at his own hands. There was a standing order to nuke Atlantis if it fell into enemy hands. His order. If it came down to it, he knew it would happen and he wouldn't be able to stop it because the safety of Earth came first even if that meant that he killed Carter.

Again.

Because he'd killed Carter once before. He had pulled the trigger and killed her to protect Earth. She had lain in an infirmary bed with machines keeping her alive. It had been a miracle she had survived and he wasn't certain he would have survived it if she hadn't. He knew he wouldn't survive it if she died at his hand again. If she died because of that standing order.

The beer slid down his throat and curdled in his belly. He ordered a scotch.

All of it, Jack realised with a large amount of chagrin, explained why he'd been subconsciously, half-consciously, thinking about Charlie. Jack held himself responsible for his son's death. Oh, he hadn't pulled the trigger but he'd been careless with his gun; careless about where he'd stowed the water pistol; careless at believing Charlie knew better than to pick up his weapon. Charlie had died and it had been Jack's fault. He had killed Charlie.

And he was scared, deep down to the gut scared, he was going to kill Carter.

OK, Jack thought morosely as he knocked back the scotch and ordered another. So, maybe he had got to the crux of the issue; identified the problem, and he'd discovered why he'd ended up back in his past. He was sacred he was going to end up being responsible for getting someone else he loved killed. But it didn't change anything. He couldn't see how reliving what had happened with Charlie would provide a solution to his concerns about Carter. As far as he could see all it would involve was him getting to experience – again – how choiceless he was about everything.

He couldn't prevent Charlie from dying in the past and he wouldn't be able to prevent Carter from dying in the future. Was that the lesson? Because if it was it sucked.

The scotch arrived and he gulped it back, absently waving at a concerned looking barman to get him another.

God. He missed her.

His wife.

The woman he loved.

He stared at the glass of deep rich tawny liquid. All he wanted was to get the hell out of his past and back to her. He knocked back his third glass of scotch and coughed as the spirit hit the back of his throat.

'Sir.'

Jack blinked. Carter was sliding onto the stool next to him. Not his Carter. Past Carter. Past Carter in a wonderful little black number that was short enough to showcase her fabulous legs, nipped in at her trim waist and had a sweetheart neckline that hinted at her cleavage.

'Carter.' He was impressed he managed to greet her without squeaking. 'Aren't you supposed to be at Hammond's?'

'I was there.' Sam said defensively. 'And then I thought I would leave early and head back to the base to do some work but I figured if that's what I was going to do then probably it would be OK for me to come here instead.'

Jack sighed and waved at the barman. 'Drink?'

'Uh, beer.' Sam adjusted her position on the stool as Jack ordered the beers. 'So how did it go with Doctor Jackson, sir?'

Jack shrugged and refused to look at her. 'Fine.'

'Oh?' Sam took a sip of her beer and gazed over the rim of her glass at him expectantly.

'He thinks I need to resolve the original problem I was wrestling with at the time I touched the box if I'm going to have a chance in hell of getting back to where I belong.' Jack stated abruptly.

Sam nodded. Her fingers traced over the hotel's name on the complementary napkin. 'What do you think?'

Jack took a large gulp of his drink to avoid answering her. 'What do you think?' He countered.

'I think he has a point.' Sam conceded. 'It certainly makes sense.'

Jack pulled a face. 'Yeah. Thought you might agree with him.' He stared at his beer. 'You always do.'

'Excuse me?' Sam asked tentatively.

He barely heard her as he chugged back his beer. 'Except about robots.' Jack frowned. 'You've never agreed on robots.'

'Sir…'

'Jack.' He snapped. 'I'm not your CO, Carter.'

Sam levelled irritated blue eyes at him. 'You are a senior officer, Colonel.'

'Actually, it's General.' Jack told her a little pompously. 'But who the hell cares?'

Sam reached for the clutch purse she'd dumped on the bar's polished surface. 'I should leave.'

'Sure.' Jack agreed caustically. 'Leave.' He picked up his beer. 'That's what you do.' The words escaped before he could stop them. He wondered at them. Maybe it wasn't just himself he was angry with for Carter being in Atlantis, he realised. It looked like he was angry with her too.

He rubbed his forehead. What had he expected when she was offered the job? That she would turn it down? Carter deserved the position; she had worked hard and he would have hated her refusing it because of him. Not only that but she was the best candidate – she was needed in Atlantis. She had taken an oath and so had he long before they had met each other.

The Carter sat beside him frowned; a line appeared between her delicately arched eyebrows. 'Sir…'

'Go.' Jack waved her away. 'Just…go, Carter. You shouldn't be here anyway.'

There was a long tense moment as they glared at each other.

Sam moved; she relinquished the purse, placing it back down and picked up her beer. 'So, you know me in the future.'

Jack squirmed under her scrutiny. 'I can't tell you; you know that.' He gulped down another long swallow of beer.

'Why do I disagree with Doctor Jackson on robots?' Sam asked.

He looked at her blankly. The fact that he had already effectively told her that he knew her in the future seeped through the haze that was beginning to fog his thinking. Too much alcohol, he thought wearily, or not enough.

'You said we usually agree on everything but robots.' Sam pointed out. She took a gulp of her drink and kept her gaze on the napkin.

Jack sighed in defeat. 'You look at a robot and see a doohickey; Daniel looks at a robot and sees a living creature.'

'What about you?' Sam propped her chin on her hand, elbow on the bar, as she turned to face him.

'I see a robot.' Jack said simply. He drained the rest of his glass and motioned with it at the barman for a refill.

The barman didn't look impressed. He slid Sam a look and she nodded almost imperceptibly. Jack's lips twisted as the question of whether she was going to take responsibility for him was asked and answered silently. His glass got refilled.

'I can't believe there's going to be robots in the future.' Sam enthused. 'Actual robots. I mean, some of the stuff that private industry is working on is fabulous but the AI remains so basic and to think we solve that…'

'They're alien.' Jack broke into her spiel. He kept his eyes on his beer but he could hear the sharp intake of breath and could imagine the surprise on her face.

'Alien.' Sam repeated. 'As in…'

'Alien.' Jack was pleased to see her face animated with curiosity when he glanced across at her. He looked away before she caught the mischief in his eyes. 'I probably shouldn't say anymore.' He proclaimed, waggling his eyebrows at his drink. 'Causality, you know.' He slid another look in her direction and wasn't surprised when her look of slight outrage turned into rueful amusement.

'Has anything you've said been true?' Sam joked lightly. She held up a hand as he opened his mouth to speak. 'No. Don't tell me. You were right, sir. We should protect the timeline.'

'Yes.' Jack's gaze stayed on her blue eyes. 'We should.'

The air hummed with tension. It seemed like it was just the two of them in the bar. Sam and Jack. Just like always.

Jack broke the eye contact first. He snapped his eyes to his beer. He was married, he reminded himself briskly, and he didn't mean to Sara. He was married to another Carter; not this young, bubbly creature that he remembered walking into a briefing room and challenging him to arm wrestle but to the wonderful mature woman she had become. He wondered if it was cheating to be drinking with the past version of her.

Sam cleared her throat and gestured awkwardly. 'Well, I should probably head back.'

'I'm going to crash here.' Jack tapped the side of his glass thoughtfully. Besides, he mused as he drained his glass, if he stayed in Denver overnight he wouldn't have to worry about sharing a bed with Sara. He winced at the thought; that would definitely be awkward.

She smiled sympathetically. 'That's probably a good idea, sir. Although…'

He raised an eyebrow at her.

'I could give you a ride.' Sam hurried out. 'I have my car and I'm going back to Colorado Springs.'

Jack shook his head. 'I've got my truck here. Come on. I'll walk you to your car.' The fresh air would sober him up, he mused.

Sam grabbed her purse and slipped off her stool. He made to follow her. His legs crumpled underneath him and he grabbed onto the bar. Pain shot through his head.

'Woah.' Jack pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead to the sharp agony radiating through his temple.

'Sir?' Sam's arm went around his back and she guided him to a nearby chair. 'Are you OK?'

'Do I look OK?' Jack gasped. His vision was dancing; black, grey and white dots obscuring his sight. Nausea surged through his gut. He groaned.

'Sir?'

He tried to say her name but nothing came out of his mouth. Sam's worried voice was the last thing he heard before it went completely dark.


	11. Chapter 11

_Present Day_

The machine gave a dull continuous tone that had Daniel closing his eyes in panic at the flat line. He snapped them back open and clutched the phone he was holding as Carolyn yelled for the paddles and drugs to save Jack's life.

'It hasn't worked! Jack's in trouble.' Daniel said loudly into the receiver. 'Turn the device back on! Turn it back on!'

'We're turning it back on now.' Bill's voice shook with nerves.

It felt like an eternity passed in the single instant it took the scientist to reactivate the box. Daniel could hear the pounding of his heart over the medical noise of the paddles discharging, the yells and shouts behind him.

'It's on!' Bill confirmed with evident relief.

A reassuring beep had Daniel's head jerking back to the infirmary bed and medical paraphernalia.

Carolyn listened intently to Jack's heart; his breathing and let out a slow breath herself as she straightened and placed the stethoscope around her neck. She shoved her hands into the deep pockets of the white medical coat. 'He's back.'

'Is he going to be OK?' Hank Landry asked from the doorway as Daniel hung up the phone and the medical team got Jack resituated.

Carolyn pursed her lips at her father. 'I wouldn't recommend turning the device off again.'

Landry nodded sharply. 'I want everyone in the briefing room in twenty minutes for a progress report.' He turned and left before anyone could argue.

'Is he really going to be OK?' Daniel walked over to stand next to Jack, his eyes scanning over the older man's pale features with worry.

'He's stable. His vital signs show he's resumed the coma.' Carolyn sighed. 'I need to review the data before the progress meeting.' She gave a sympathetic grimace as Daniel was joined by his team-mates. 'I'll see you up there.' She left swiftly leaving SG1 alone with its former team leader.

'It is unfortunate the plan did not work.' Teal'c commented beside Daniel.

Vala nodded enthusiastically on the other side the Jaffa. 'I think we should recall Sam.'

Daniel shot her a look. Vala had hated Sam being assigned to Atlantis. In some ways he understood. Vala had been alone for so long that she didn't trust the bonds between them all; didn't trust that time and distance wouldn't change those bonds fundamentally. He figured that Vala was scared that Sam being in Atlantis would mean Sam would stop being her friend even if Vala didn't want to admit to it.

'I'm not so sure.' Mitchell spoke up. He was standing on the other side of the bed, hands resting lightly on his hips and staring down at Jack. 'We should probably exhaust every option before we recall her.'

Vala blew out a sharp breath. 'Cameron, her husband is unconscious; Sam will be annoyed that we haven't called her and personally I don't want her to be mad at me.'

Mitchell held up his hands and directed his gaze at Daniel. 'Jackson?'

'I don't think we're going to be the ones to make the decision.' Daniel sighed. General Landry would ultimately determine when to recall Sam.

'But…' Vala began.

Daniel could see the arguments forming in her dark gaze and he held up a hand. 'I want Sam here too.' He declared bluntly. 'I think we all want Sam here but bringing her back here right now would be more about making us feel better than about what's best for her…or Jack.' Or Atlantis, Daniel added silently. The city didn't need its new commander being removed barely a week after her arrival nor for her to be distracted by personal news of Jack's coma when they could still find a solution.

'Daniel Jackson is correct.' Teal'c said firmly, cutting off Vala's counter-argument before she could make it. 'We must focus on helping O'Neill.'

Daniel took his glasses off and scrubbed at his eyes.

Mitchell cleared his throat. 'Why don't Vala and I head up and inform Doctor Lee of the progress meeting? We'll meet you there.' He was already walking out of the infirmary room, his hand catching on the loose fabric of Vala's blue BDU shirt as he dragged her out protesting.

'I know what I said but I really wish Sam was here.' Daniel confessed to his Jaffa team-mate as he slumped into a chair beside Jack.

'As do I.' Teal'c admitted as he adjusted his stance, clasping his hands behind his back. 'However, I believe you spoke truly. While Colonel Carter will undoubtedly be perturbed at not being recalled immediately, I believe to do so now would only undermine her new position and make her question her decision to leave. For that reason I believe O'Neill would also prefer us to try every possible solution before we requested her presence.'

Daniel nodded. 'Me too.' He frowned as he folded his arms over his chest. 'There's something we're missing, Teal'c.'

The Jaffa looked at him questioningly.

I don't know what.' Daniel's lips lifted in a hint of a smile. 'Otherwise we wouldn't be missing it.' But they were definitely missing something, Daniel bit his lip - and it wasn't just the presence of Sam.

Teal'c inclined his head.

'We should get to the progress meeting.' Daniel murmured.

'I will remain here.' Teal'c's chin lifted as though he was prepared to fight Daniel to do so.

Daniel simply nodded. He wished he could stay with Jack too. He got to his feet tiredly. It had been a long day since Jack had collapsed in his office. The walk to the briefing room seemed exhausting and he helped himself to a large mug of coffee from the ever present pot when he entered. He slumped into the nearest chair and ignored the sympathetic look Mitchell shot him. Vala hadn't looked at him since he'd entered, and he surmised she was annoyed at his refusal to agree with her about Sam. Carolyn nodded an acknowledgement at him as did Bill who looked very despondent.

'Report,' ordered Landry briskly as he barrelled into the room and took his seat, impatiently waving Mitchell back into his.

'Turning the device off didn't work.' Bill began.

'That much is obvious, Doctor.' Landry pointed out. 'Why didn't it work?'

There was silence around the table and more than a few disheartened expressions.

Carolyn swung her chair around slightly to her father. 'I've been going over the medical data collected since General O'Neill collapsed. There is some evidence that there may be a neural connection between him and the box. A scan of his brain showed unusual activity in the areas most associated with memory and dreaming. When the box was switched off, his brain reacted to the absence of the connection which caused an adverse physical reaction.'

'He died.' Daniel said testily, placing his mug on the table with an audible thump.

'Can't get much more adverse than that.' Mitchell agreed calmly.

Landry sighed. He gestured at the assembled group. 'Do we know how the box works yet?'

'We haven't been able to figure much more out from the box itself.' Bill spoke up. 'All we know for certain is that it is emitting an energy signature. Given Doctor Lam's findings it must be establishing a neural link somehow through subspace but…' he shrugged, 'how and why we can't be certain.'

'So what we're really saying is we don't know how the box works or what might be happening to General O'Neill.' Landry stated. His gaze travelled around the table.

'The box teaches.' Daniel said suddenly, turning over the information they did know in his head. 'We know that much.'

'Which helps us how, Doctor Jackson?' Landry pressed.

'Hey, maybe it transports someone's consciousness to the past.' Mitchell proposed.

'I don't think so, Colonel.' Bill said firmly. 'There are no usual signs of temporal dislocation. If anything the energy signature is similar to the Tok'ra memory device and the za'tarc machine.'

'Similar but not the same.' Carolyn added. She pursed her lips, a thoughtful expression softening her professional demeanour. 'Doctor Jackson mentioned that an Ascended being gave him a dream which resulted in a coma. I've reviewed the medical data and it is a close match to the General's. If the box is a mechanical way for someone to experience the same learning technique, I would say that's not a bad assumption.'

'As fascinating as this is, I don't see how it helps.' Vala said. 'Surely if the box worked along the same lines, switching it off shouldn't have had such an extreme reaction?'

'Lady, has a point.' Mitchell commented dryly.

Daniel shrugged. 'Perhaps if this is the same it's a way of ensuring that the dream isn't interrupted before it completes.'

There was silence.

Daniel shifted position abruptly, leaning forward over the polished briefing room table. 'Look, if we're right and Jack is experiencing a dream to learn something, I don't know, by examining something in his past, then maybe we should just allow the box to complete its function.'

'You mean wait until General O'Neill learns whatever he was meant to learn?' Mitchell checked sceptically.

'That might work.' Carolyn said in agreement. 'We know you didn't wake from your coma until you had learned what Shifu intended to teach you.'

'So are you all telling me that the best option is for us to do nothing?' Landry checked.

'No. What if General O'Neill doesn't learn whatever it is he's supposed to?' Bill protested worriedly. 'I'm sorry.' He said as the others stared at him in irritation. 'I don't mean to be the party pooper here but it is a possibility.'

'You mean he would be stuck in this dream?' Landry leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach.

Daniel sighed. Bill did have a point. Jack was stubborn at the best of times, and if the lesson had anything to do with the personal issue Jack had been wrestling with at the time as Daniel suspected, it was even more likely that Jack would try to avoid dealing with it which meant that there was every possibility that Jack could get stuck in his dream.

'So what do you suggest, Doctor Lee?' Landry asked bluntly.

Bill hesitated as he gathered his thoughts. He cleared his throat. 'We know that there's some kind of neural link between the box and General O'Neill, now maybe if we can isolate it and tap into it somehow we can find a way to communicate with him.'

Mitchell pointed at him. 'Like you did when Teal'c was stuck in the virtual environment and Jackson here went into assist him.'

'Exactly.' Bill nodded excitedly.

Daniel raised his hand slightly. 'I'd like to volunteer to assist Jack if we find a way.'

They all looked at Landry sitting at the head of the table.

'Well, it's a plan.' Landry declared as he stood up. 'Get working on it, Doctor.' He gestured at Bill. 'Use anyone you need. I need to update the President.' He left before anyone could say anything more.

Bill exited almost immediately with Carolyn. Daniel rose to his feet slowly. He was torn between following after them or getting back to Jack.

'You think this is going to work?' Mitchell asked as they fell into step as they walked out.

Daniel rubbed his head tiredly. 'I hope so.' Otherwise they were out of options.

'I still think we should call Sam.' Vala argued. 'This probably wouldn't have happened if she had been here.' She stabbed the elevator call button as though to underscore her point.

She was probably right about that, Daniel thought, because he had a feeling the lesson Jack had to learn was all about Sam being in Atlantis.


	12. Chapter 12

_Jack's Past_

The sound of a shower running impinged on Jack's sleep, making its way past the subconscious barriers until it was real enough to nudge Jack into wakefulness. He opened his eyes gingerly. He was in a hotel room, Jack determined sluggishly. The slightly out of date décor accompanied by the standard hotel furniture was a give-away.

There was a dull ache behind his left eye and his throat felt raw. He reached clumsily for the glass of water on the bedside table and gulped back the entire glass. He placed the heavy tumbler back down and rolled over onto his back. He had woken up alone in the rumpled bed but there was evidence that someone had shared it with him – the faint imprint of a head on a neighbouring pillow, the way the sheets were arranged. Then there was the more concerning fact that the shower running was in the en suite attached to the room.

Jack scrubbed his face, trying to remember what had happened. He had been in the bar with Carter – past Carter. He'd stood up to leave and…nothing. He couldn't remember what had happened next. It made sense that it was her in the shower though. His eyes landed on a black dress pooled onto a nearby chair along with his own sweater, pants and jacket.

They hadn't done anything more than sleep. From the looks of the bed, she had slept on top of the covers with the coverlet as a blanket, and he was partially dressed; he'd retained his boxers and the t-shirt he'd been wearing. It was more likely that Carter had helped him to his room and put him to bed. Given how drunk he'd been, she had probably stayed to ensure he was OK. He rubbed a hand over his face and stifled a groan. He guessed that he owed her an apology.

Jack struggled into a sitting position. The sheet dropped from his torso to pool at his hips. He covered his face with his hands. It was such a mess. He was such a mess. He had ended up solving nothing. Carter – his Carter – was still in Atlantis. He was still stuck in his past and apparently finding all new ways to screw it up. He felt a surge of guilt. He had never cheated; never drunkenly ended up in a hotel room with a woman with no recollection of how he'd ended up there. The fact that nothing had happened and that he eventually married the woman in question in the future didn't take away the bile that churned through his gut. He had let his wife – wives – down, Jack considered wearily. Neither Sara nor Carter deserved to be treated so thoughtlessly.

He frowned. He had always been able to handle his drink. Sure, he'd had the beers and scotch but it shouldn't have been enough to wipe him out. Maybe he was suffering some kind of side effect from the time travel. Or, Jack considered with irritation, he was just trying to find a way to justify his poor behaviour.

The cessation of the shower had him looking up towards the bathroom door. He wondered if he should pretend to be asleep. The door opened before he could debate it further. Carter walked out wrapped in a hotel bathrobe and towelling her damp hair. She slowed as she spotted he was awake and lowered the towel. She smiled shyly at him.

'Hi.' Sam gestured awkwardly. 'You're awake.'

'Looks like it.' Jack retorted. He winced as he saw her smile fall away at his brusque tone. 'Sorry.' He muttered. 'Hangover.'

Sam nodded understandingly. 'Bathroom's yours.'

Jack slid out of the bed and watched amused as she turned away, apparently fascinated by the room service menu. He gathered his clothes and headed for the bathroom. He dealt with a pressing call of nature before he set the shower to hot, stripped and stepped under the spray. It refreshed him. He washed with the hotel soap and shampoo until his skin was flush with the heat and his hair squeaked. He left the shower reluctantly. He noticed that Sam had found a travel toothpaste and toothbrush from somewhere. The damp bristles and smudge of paste on the handle indicated the brush was already used but he picked it up and used it anyway. He towelled off and dressed, discarding his boxers and throwing them into the trash. He ran a hand over his neck and jaw, grimacing at the sandpaper effect on his callused fingertips. There was no razor and Jack figured he would have to shave when he got back to his house. He looked at the bathroom door, suddenly reluctant to go out and face Carter.

He walked out anyway and found her dressed, curled up in the chair with a mug. She indicated another mug on the table; she had apparently ordered room service which must have arrived while he showered. She had opened the heavy curtains and pale sunlight streamed into the room and over the unmade bed. He shoved his feet into his boots and tied the laces before he picked up the mug and sat down on the end of the bed, just out of the sunlight to drink it. He glanced at her.

She looked young and fresh. Her blonde hair shone like spun gold. It was damp and curling into her neck. Her face was free of make-up; her eyes impossibly bright and blue. The black dress seemed incongruous.

'Thank you.' Jack said gruffly, waving his mug at her.

Sam shrugged. 'How are you feeling? I have some painkillers if you…'

'I'm fine.' He cut her off. 'The shower helped.' He lifted the mug and took a long swallow of hot bitter coffee. It warmed him and revitalised him. He stared into the cup. 'I should apologise.'

'I think getting displaced in time is probably a good enough reason for getting…uh,' Sam stumbled to a halt.

Jack found himself smiling, his embarrassment eking away like water down a drain. 'Drunk?'

Sam forced a smile. She smoothed her short skirt. 'I should, er, leave.'

'We should both leave.' Jack knew he needed to return, pick up the threads of his old life again, somehow live through the next couple of days.

'Colonel.' Sam uncoiled her legs and sat forward. 'General Hammond told me that you mentioned something would happen in your life tomorrow; some event?'

Jack stiffened. He had hoped Hammond would keep it to himself. 'Something like that.' He looked away from her. 'You don't have to worry, Carter. I know I need to protect the timeline.'

'That wasn't…' Sam sighed. 'You were thinking about tomorrow's event just before you woke up here in the past?'

'Yes.' Jack answered shortly.

'And this had something to do with the problem that the box thinks you can solve by being back here?' Sam continued.

'Apparently.' Jack replied. He looked at her and froze at the speculative look she had on her face. It was the same look she wore when she was thinking about how to jump a wormhole, or save his ass. 'What are you thinking?'

She shook her head. 'I don't know, it's just…' she looked over at him with eager blue eyes, 'maybe Doctor Jackson was right and if you could work out what you were supposed to learn from this time to help you solve your problem this would be over.'

'I already worked it out.' Jack said sharply. He got to his feet and stalked over to place his mug back down on the table. He pushed his hands into his jeans' pockets.

'With respect, sir, if you had worked it out, you probably wouldn't be here.' Sam suggested firmly.

Jack took one hand out of his pocket and traced the edge of the table.

'Two heads are better than one.' She prompted lightly as the silence stretched on.

'That is such a cliché, Carter.' Jack sighed; it was a cliché for a reason and all things considered if he was going to spill his guts to someone, Carter wasn't a bad choice. She wasn't a good choice either given their future relationship but so long as he didn't tell her about that…

He sat back down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his damp palms over his jean clad knees. 'I don't even know where to begin.' He focused on his hands, examining the nicks and calluses. There was a nasty scratch from the work he'd performed in the yard the day before across the back of his left hand. He couldn't remember getting a similar injury back in his original past but then his original memories continued to remain intact as though nothing he did had any effect.

'What happens tomorrow?' Sam asked gently.

Jack felt his throat close up. He had only ever touched on the subject of Charlie with his Carter once. It had been just after their marriage when they had been unpacking his belongings in Washington and Sam had come across an old teddy bear…

 _'Who's this?' Her blue eyes lit up with laughter as she waved a paw at him._

 _He reached for the bear hurriedly. 'It was Charlie's.'_

 _'Oh.' The laughter in her face died and was replaced by chagrin. She handed him the bear gently._

 _He took it and made to put it back in a box. It would live on the top shelf of his closet as it had for the past decade. He felt Sam move away. She began sorting through his sweaters. He wondered if he should say something. What was there to say? Carter knew what had happened to Charlie; she knew he missed his son terribly. But she was probably expecting some explanation…_

 _'Carter.'_

 _She looked across the bed at him questioningly; a tiny flicker of hope in her eyes. He felt the words crowd in his throat; he couldn't utter one word._

 _He sat down on the bed, the bear in his hands. Sam walked around to his side and sat beside him. She cuddled into his side and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hand slid over his and stroked a battered teddy bear ear._

 _'It's OK.' She murmured. She raised her head as he turned to look at her and she leaned over to kiss him lightly before she resumed her position; one hand held tightly in his. There was no need for confidences…she knew because she knew him, loved him; emotional scars included…_

'Colonel?' Past Carter's voice intruded on the memory and pulled him from it.

'At approximately seventeen hundred tomorrow,' Jack said quietly, staring at the pale blue carpet, 'my son will find my gun unsecured in my closet.' He wet his lips. 'He'll accidentally shoot himself.'

'Oh God.' Sam's heartfelt words barely registered with Jack.

He didn't look at her. 'Sara and I will hear the shot from the front yard. We'll find him,' his throat closed up and he had to clear it before he continued, 'we'll find him bleeding out in the bedroom.' Blood everywhere; so much blood. The floor drenched in it. He closed his eyes against the memory.

Sam moved to sit beside him; her hand rested on his arm.

'I'll carry him to my truck. Sara will hold him all the way to the hospital.' Jack continued, determined to push the words out. 'He'll be proclaimed dead in the emergency room.'

'I'm so sorry.' Sam said softly. 'I just…I don't know what else to say.'

There wasn't anything to say. They sat for a long while and he let her quiet comfort wash over him.

'Why now?' Sam asked eventually. 'Why return you to such an awful part of your personal history?'

'I'm responsible for my son's death.' Jack noted stiffly. 'In the future, I might be responsible for the death of someone else I love. That's why.'

Sam shifted. 'You've just lost someone else?'

'Not yet.' Jack admitted. 'But my wife is in danger because of me; because of a decision I made.'

'I don't understand.' Sam squeezed his arm lightly. 'How have you placed your wife in danger?'

Jack got up unable to remain still. He paced back to the desk and turned around, leaning back on it. He crossed his arms. 'She's Air Force.' He explained briskly. 'I recommended her for her posting. She's…abroad; in enemy territory.'

'I thought your wife…' Sam began in confusion.

'I remarry.' Jack pulled a face. 'Sara and I don't survive losing Charlie.'

Sam seemed to take a moment to gather her thoughts. 'I assume the regulations prevent a direct chain of command relationship between you and your wife?'

Jack nodded grimly. It had taken some working out but Homeworld Security had oversight only of the SGC; the chain of command went to the Pentagon.

'So your recommendation couldn't have been the deciding factor.' Sam surmised reasonably.

'No, but…' Jack stuttered to a halt. Woolsey had made the formal recommendation; the President had endorsed it; the IOA had made the appointment. Whether he had supported Woolsey or not the outcome was likely to have been the same.

'And if your wife is Air Force she must know the risks.'

Jack looked at Carter. 'She does.'

'I don't see how it could be your fault if she died because of this new posting, sir.' Sam said.

'I encouraged her to take it.' Jack replied gruffly. 'She wasn't sure about it so I encouraged her and she went for it.'

'Isn't that what you're supposed to do as a husband? Encourage and support?' Sam argued. 'I'm sure she made her own decision in the end.'

Jack sighed. He knew his Carter would make the same argument. They were both fiercely independent and self-sufficient. He knew as far as his wife was concerned he'd encouraged and supported but she had made the decision. He felt the knot in his gut loosen a little. Perhaps his role in Carter's appointment to Atlantis wasn't wholly on him but that still left the matter of the standing order.

'There's more to it, isn't there?' Sam prompted. Her eyes had remained affixed to his face watching the play of emotions across the deeply drawn features.

He shifted a little and gave a sharp nod. 'There's a standing order to nuke her base if it should fall into enemy hands.' He held her gaze. 'My order.'

'But that hasn't happened yet.' Sam murmured.

'Not yet.' Jack jerked his gaze away from her all too familiar gaze. 'But when it happens…'

'You'll feel as though you'll be responsible for her death.' Sam summarised. She breathed in deeply. 'You'll feel responsible for someone else you care about dying.'

There was another silence. Jack fidgeted. It didn't seem like sharing had got him very far. 'Well, now you know as much as I know.' He said crisply. 'Any ideas what I'm supposed to learn that will help me out of this mess?'

Sam bit her lip. 'Maybe,' she began hesitantly, 'maybe the box brought you here to show you that you weren't responsible…'

'I am responsible.' Jack snapped back harshly. 'I killed my son. I left my gun unsecured.' He whirled away from her and dragged a hand through his hair. 'This is pointless.'

'The box wanted you to learn something.' Sam said gently.

'Yeah?' Jack shot back. 'What?'

'There has to be something; some reason why…'

'Why it wants me to live through the most painful time in my life? Damn it, my son died!' Jack retorted loudly. 'And you know what? Tomorrow…tomorrow I have to live through it all again because I have to protect the damn timeline and you know why? Because I don't get a choice just like I don't get a choice about what orders to give to keep Earth safe even if those orders kill my wife. I don't get a damned choice!'

He whirled suddenly, pushing everything off the desk in an angry shove. He stood, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes tightly against the pain. Sam remained frozen on the bed and he refused to look at her.

'Sir…'

'I have to go.' Jack said brusquely, grabbing his jacket. 'I'll pay for the room on the way out.' He walked out and left her behind.


	13. Chapter 13

The neighbourhood was slumbering as Jack pulled into the driveway. He got out of the truck and stared down the street at the neatly trimmed front lawns and chocolate box houses. It looked like something from a movie. The American dream; white picket fences and happy families. He jerked his gaze away at the thought. He turned back to his own house.

He didn't want to go inside. He had briefly considered when he'd left Denver of fleeing to his cabin in Minnesota; of ignoring the idea he had to live through it at all. But the thought that he might end up stuck in his past had turned his truck back towards Colorado Springs.

Jack sighed heavily. There was no choice, he reminded himself.

Jack made his way inside. It was early and he kept his movements quiet; he didn't want to disturb Sara or Charlie. He'd make some coffee and go sit on the deck, Jack decided. Maybe it would be good for him to have some alone time to think of a way out of the whole mess.

He made his way to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway at the sight of Sara sitting in her dressing robe at the kitchen table. She looked like she hadn't slept; her short blonde hair was sticking up as though she'd pulled at it in frustration, her eyes were shadowed, her skin pale and blotchy. The crumpled tissue in her hand indicated tears.

'Sara.' Jack said hesitantly, his heart pounding. Had it already happened? Had he changed the timeline and pushed everything forward? Was his son… 'Charlie?'

'He's fine.' Sara assured him. Her gaze travelled over him and he wondered at her grimace.

He stilled instinctively. 'What's wrong? You look upset.'

Sara laughed roughly. 'Why don't you tell me?' She stood up. She crossed to the kitchen bench and began to make a fresh pot of coffee. 'You don't have anything to say?' She shot him a derisive look over her shoulder.

Jack quirked an eyebrow upward in a way his Jaffa team-mate would recognise. 'What do you want me to say?'

Sara turned around. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms tightly over the robe. 'How about why my friend Emily saw you stumbling into some hotel room in Denver with a young woman last night?'

Jack was too taken aback by her words to cover his surprise. Horror chased after the surprise. He'd never been unfaithful to Sara during their marriage; never. But he had ended up in a hotel room with another woman and that wasn't the action of a man in love with his wife. The guilt he'd felt when he'd woken up that morning returned a hundred fold. The problem was, he acknowledged inwardly, Sara wasn't his wife anymore. His loyalty was with Carter and while he was somewhat disturbed to end up in a hotel room with her past counterpart, it had at least been _her_ on some level. Not that he could tell Sara any of that and he had no idea what he could tell her.

'You're not even denying it.' Sara's sharp words dragged Jack's attention back to her. He caught the glimmer of fresh tears in her eyes as she turned away.

He wet his lips. He had no idea how to fix it. 'It's not what you think.'

She paused in setting out her mug but she didn't turn back to him. 'So, it was you?'

'I was in Denver last night.' Jack said honestly. 'And I admit I spent the night in a hotel room with a young Air Force Captain but it was work.'

'Is that what they're calling it now?' Sara asked bitterly.

'We're working together on an unusual mission.' Jack crossed the room and took hold of her shoulders. He spun her round to face him. 'We slept; that's all we did. I swear.'

Sara put a hand against his chest. 'I want to believe that.'

'Believe it.' Jack said forcefully. 'Sara, have I ever given you any reason to think I would be unfaithful?'

She shook her head. 'No.' She sighed heavily. 'Never.'

'Believe me. Nothing happened.' Jack reiterated.

Sara nodded slowly. Jack pulled her into a tight hug and was pleased when she hugged him back. He shushed her when she half-mumbled an apology. He felt swamped with guilt; about ending up with another woman in a hotel room, for not loving her the way she thought he did. He was deceiving her and more, he was going to hurt her. He was going to stand by and let their son die. He tightened his hold on her.

Sara half-pulled back from him. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong.' He denied. He let go of her and put some space between them. He walked over to the French windows leading out to the deck and stared out at the large grassy lawn.

'Something's wrong, Jack.' Sara noted. 'You've been acting weird since yesterday morning and now this…this thing with you spending a night in a hotel room with a woman? It isn't like you.'

Jack pressed his lips together. 'It's just this mission.' He waved a hand vaguely in the air. 'It's weird.'

'Do you want to talk about it?' Sara asked hesitantly.

'It's classified.' Jack answered. He knew it would stop the questions. Sara had been a military wife for too many years to keep pushing it.

'Are you…do you have to leave again?' Sara asked. 'Charlie said you promised to take him to the park.'

Jack glanced back at her. 'I did.' He gestured at her. 'Why don't we make a day of it? Take a picnic?'

Sara tried to smile and nodded. 'Sounds great.' She gestured at the coffee. 'You want some?'

He shook his head. 'Maybe later.' His hand grazed his jaw again. 'I'm going to get ready.'

'Jack?'

He stopped in the doorway and turned back to her.

'I noticed your gun was on top of the lockbox when I was in the closet.' Sara informed him briskly.

Jack's heart skipped a beat in panic. 'Did you put it away?'

She shook her head. 'You know I don't like to touch it.'

'I'll see to it.' Jack muttered. He walked out of the bright sunny kitchen before Sara could ask him anything more.

He shrugged off his unease as he focused on the day ahead as he showered again and shaved. His memory of the day from his original past was very different. Jack remembered the day had started off with breakfast in bed. He and Sara had loved each other not argued about whether he had been cheating. They had planned the day cuddling and exchanging sections of the newspaper. She had warned him about the gun when she'd gotten out of bed to get Charlie up.

He paused in front of his closet. He'd forgotten that. She had pulled on her robe, reminded him about the gun and kissed him before she had left the room. How had he forgotten that?

Because it didn't matter.

So Sara had noticed and hadn't done anything. Ultimately, it was still his gun; his responsibility. He hadn't blamed her at the time and he wasn't going to start blaming her years after the event. It was all him.

Jack pulled open the closet door and stared at the weapon as he dressed. It remained where he had left it. Another memory drifted through his mind. He could remember picking the gun up and reaching for the key…Charlie had called for him. He had been eager to get to the park. Jack had placed the gun back on top of the lockbox figuring he had plenty of time to put it away.

The faint murmur of Charlie's voice outside on the landing broke the spell of the past memory.

The gun remained on the lockbox.

'Dad! You're back!' Charlie burst into the room and Jack hurriedly closed the closet door. 'Mom says we're going to the park!'

Jack tousled his hair, unable to stop the smile that pulled at his lips at his son's evident delight. 'We are.'

'Cool.' Charlie high-fived him and rushed from the room.

Jack moved to the bedroom door and closed it slowly. He wandered back to the closet. He had treasured the memory of the day at the park after Charlie's death; it had been a moment of light in the dark. Daniel's comments that the experience Jack was going through allowed him the opportunity to enjoy his son again resonated through him. Maybe Daniel was right, Jack thought ruefully, maybe he should just try and enjoy the time he'd been granted with his son.

Except...the gun seemed to taunt him with its presence.

Without consciously deciding, his hand reached for the weapon on the lockbox. The safety clicked into place loudly. He opened the lockbox and put it inside; turned the key. His jaw tensed. He'd take it out again.

Maybe.

He would. Just…he couldn't spend another day with his son knowing it was out of the lockbox; what that meant. Maybe he could pretend, just for a little while, that it wasn't going to happen. Jack gripped the key hard enough that the teeth drew blood. He stuffed the key into his jeans' pocket before he went to help Charlie.

It was a couple of hours of chaos: breakfast, packing the lunch, the O'Neill family piling into Jack's truck. They made it to the park mid-morning. Jack cajoled Charlie into playing catch until Sara called them over for the lunch of sandwiches and fruit. They headed for the rowing boats on the lake and rowed out into the middle, Sara waved at them from the shore and Charlie waved back.

Jack's eyes ran over his son; the blond hair was messed up, his face was red from the exercise and fresh air, his eyes filled with childish pleasure. Jack felt a wave of love so strong he had to look away. How the hell was he going to get that gun out of the box? How could he do it?

He'd taken a risk putting it in the lockbox. What if he worked out his lesson and got sent back to the future? He snorted. That seemed fairly unlikely. He still had no idea what he was meant to learn…what about his past was meant to help him with his situation in the future.

'Are you OK, Dad?' Charlie asked suddenly.

Jack's eyes snapped to his son. 'I'm fine, Charlie.'

Charlie looked down at his sneakers. 'I heard you and Mom arguing.'

'Well, we do that sometimes.' Jack said mildly, hiding his surprise that Charlie had overheard them.

'Are you getting a divorce?' Charlie blurted out. 'Only Gary Talbot's Mom and Dad are getting a divorce and…'

Jack reached over and grasped his son's shoulder, rocking the boat a little. 'We're not getting a divorce, Charlie.' At least, not over that morning; not in Charlie's lifetime.

'Then what's wrong?' Charlie asked bluntly.

Jack sighed and removed his hand. He had no idea what to say. 'It's just…it's a difficult time right now. That's all, Charlie.'

'Why?' Charlie's single word twisted Jack's lips.

'I can't talk about it.' Jack said firmly. 'It's work.'

'Mom says we should talk about things.' Charlie shot back. 'That it helps makes things better.'

'Mom's right.' Jack supported Sara's teaching unequivocally even if he didn't practice it; had never practiced it. Talking hadn't helped him solve why he was back in his past; not with Daniel and not with Sam.

'So.' Charlie brushed his bangs out of his eyes. 'Why don't you talk about it?'

Jack sighed. 'Because it's secret.'

'I can keep a secret.' Charlie pressed.

Jack knew in the past he would have said something to close his son down; something sharp and final. He couldn't bring himself to do it though. He looked over at Charlie's eager face. 'I know you can, Charlie, but this is a very big and important secret. I'm not allowed to tell anyone.'

'Oh.' Charlie's young face fell in evident disappointment. 'Not even Mom?'

'Not even Mom.' Jack confirmed. He looked back at the shore and reached for the oars. 'How about we head back and go for ice-cream?'

Charlie's face lit up. An hour later, they sat in an ice-cream parlour with sundaes and floats.

Charlie licked his spoon and Sara reached across to wipe a drop of chocolate ice-cream from the corner of his mouth. 'Mom!' He protested. He pushed the spoon into the empty glass and looked longingly over at the pinball machine.

Jack slid a quarter over the table to him. He refused to consider that he'd had it ready because he'd remembered Charlie playing on the machine originally. Charlie beamed at him and picked it up. He was out of the booth and at the machine before Jack could blink. Jack watched Charlie as he began to play.

'He loves spending time with you.' Sara commented, blowing on her coffee and taking a sip.

'I love spending time with him.' Jack said simply. He hadn't spent enough time with Charlie before his death. Until the gunshot, he had taken it for granted that there would be time. He frowned. Just like he had taken it for granted that he and Carter would have time together in the future.

His heart suddenly pounded. Was that the lesson? He had assumed wrongly with Charlie and with his standing order hanging over Carter's head in the future, had he assumed wrongly about how much time he and Carter would have? Maybe he ought to consider retiring again...

Sara placed her cup down with a clatter. 'Jack, have you given any more thought about retiring?'

Jack looked up at her startled. Had she read his mind?

'I take it that's a no.' Sara said dryly. She reached across the table and tangled their fingers together. 'We've talked about this.'

And they had. Jack had been getting slowly disillusioned with the life, with the work. But his retirement hadn't been raised that particular day before. Jack hid his confusion in his mug, trying to cast his mind back.

'You said you would talk with your CO.' Sara reminded him.

'Right.' Jack commented.

Sara sighed. She rubbed his fingers with hers. 'You know I'll always support you but…'

'But you'd prefer I retired.' Jack completed. 'We've had this discussion before, Sara.'

Or rather they'd had the argument before. Sara had wanted him out of Special Forces; out of the military. He couldn't say he blamed her. He'd served most of his adult life in black ops; done some things for his country that he wasn't particularly proud of and, in retrospect, he'd been closer to the way Harry Maybourne operated than he cared to consider. He'd believed at the time that he was performing a necessary duty; doing what was necessary to keep his country and his family safe. In many ways, he still did.

'You agreed that maybe it was time.' Sara pointed out. She withdrew her hand and wrapped it around her mug.

'I agreed to think about it.' Jack replied evenly.

'And?' Sara waved her mug at him. 'Don't you think that what happened this morning means you should do something more than just think about it?'

Jack reached for his own drink to avoid answering her.

'You're clearly unhappy with what they're asking you to do.' Sara continued relentlessly. 'And I'm not sure what mission involves sleeping in hotel rooms with young Air Force women but I have to tell you, Jack, the more I think about it, the more I think it's a load of bull.'

'I've told you the truth.' Jack said defensively, keeping his voice low to prevent the content of their argument from reaching the ears of the neighbouring table or, more importantly, Charlie. 'Nothing happened.'

Sara looked at him unhappily.

'Don't you trust me?' Jack asked sharply. 'You really think I would cheat on you?'

'No.' Sara responded with a sigh. 'It's just…something doesn't add up, Jack. Put yourself in my place. You wouldn't be happy if you discovered I'd spent the night with someone else even if I assured you it was innocent.'

She had a point, Jack conceded. He looked over at Charlie; took in the lively animation on his son's face. His eyes caught on the clock. In less than twenty-four hours his son would be dead. He dropped his gaze back to his mug.

'Jack.' Sara leaned over the table. She didn't try and touch him again but her face was set in stubborn lines he recognised only too well from all the years they had been married. 'What is going on?'

'You know I can't tell you.' Jack answered shortly.

'They can't force you to do something you don't want to do.' Sara pulled a face at Jack's surprised expression that she'd so accurately guessed at his state of mind. 'I know you, Jack. Whatever this mission is, you hate it. You haven't been happy since you got back to the house yesterday.'

He'd forgotten how well Sara had known him, Jack mused with chagrin as he looked away from her again. They'd been married for over a decade; together since their early twenties. She might not have fully understood his work the way Carter did; maybe only tolerated the military side of him at best unlike Carter; but Sara had known Jack.

'Can't you refuse this one?' Sara pressed.

Jack shook his head and looked up at her guardedly. 'You could say I'm the only man for the job.'

'Will you at least think about what we've talked about?' Sara pushed.

Jack nodded. 'I'll think about it.'

It was a meaningless promise. He knew that. The same time the next day, they would be mourning their son and she would step out of his arms, telling him without words that she blamed him.

'We should leave.' Jack declared. He paid for the bill as Sara collected Charlie, ushering him back into his jacket. They began the journey back to the house with the radio playing some tune that helped fill Jack's mind.

'Jack.'

He glanced over to the passenger seat where Sara was rummaging in her purse for the house keys. 'What?'

'I forgot to ask what you did with the water-pistol you took off Charlie.' Sara said absently, her main attention still focused on her purse. 'I thought I'd try taking it back to the store.'

Jack felt his mouth go dry. He shot a look behind him. Charlie was sprawled in the back seat, apparently asleep. But he couldn't be, Jack realised, because this must have been how Charlie had discovered where Jack had put the water-pistol.

'Jack?'

'Uh,' Jack focused on the road, 'I think it's in the closet.'

'Great.' Sara fished her keys out of her bag with a triumphant flourish.

Jack felt a cold lump form in his belly. He pulled into the driveway and got out. He acknowledged Sara's call that she would start dinner; Charlie's request to play some game on his computer. Jack wandered back up to the bedroom. He opened the closet door and froze.

The gun was on top of the lockbox. Jack checked his pocket; the key was there. He looked back at the gun. It didn't make sense…he'd put the safety on and locked the gun away. He knew he had. He could remember it clearly.

So, what was it doing outside the lockbox?


	14. Chapter 14

Jack stared at the gun. He had secured it. He knew he had. What the hell was going on?

Carter.

The thought sprang into his head. He had told her what would happen. Had she followed him? Sneaked in when he'd left and checked that he hadn't screwed with the timeline?

He couldn't believe it. He didn't believe it. There was no evidence of a break-in but then Carter could pick locks, deal with an alarm system...his gut churned.

No. He pushed a hand through his hair. There had to be some other explanation.

The doorbell rang insistently.

'Jack! Can you get that?' Sara's call sounded up the stairs.

Jack slammed the closet door shut on his weapon. He skipped down the stairs and yanked open the front door. He stared in surprise at General Hammond.

'Colonel.' Hammond greeted him briskly.

'Sir.' Jack greeted him cautiously. 'I wasn't expecting to see you.'

'I'm sorry,' Sara's voice behind him, had Jack looking sharply over his shoulder. She stepped forward, drying her hands on a dishcloth, 'I don't believe we've met.'

'We haven't.' Hammond confirmed. 'General Hammond.'

'This is Sara.' Jack introduced them reluctantly, uneasy at the way the two different parts of his life were colliding. Not that they hadn't collided in the future but this…this was way too early.

'And who's this?' Hammond gestured at Charlie who stood behind Sara and grinned back at him irrepressively.

'I'm Charlie.'

'Pleased to meet you, Charlie.' Hammond offered his hand solemnly and Charlie shook it with equal gravitas.

Hammond straightened and caught Jack's eye. 'I'm sorry to disturb you, Colonel, but I need to talk to you urgently.'

'Why don't you use the den, Jack?' Sara suggested. 'I'll bring you some coffee in?'

Hammond shook his balding head. 'That's kind of you, Mrs O'Neill…'

'Sara, please.' She smiled politely.

'But we're going to need some privacy.' Hammond looked at Jack expectantly. 'I was hoping we could take a drive.'

Jack ruffled Charlie's hair and grimaced apologetically at Sara. 'Don't wait dinner for me. I'll call you later.' He stooped to hug his son before he grabbed his coat. He absently heard Hammond say goodbye to Sara and Charlie. A moment later, they walked away from the house to Hammond's car, got inside the vehicle and drove away.

Jack remained silent waiting for the older man to speak, almost sure what was coming. Carter had probably told Hammond the whole truth of Jack's history and what was to happen. Hammond had turned up to take the necessary precautions of ensuring Jack didn't screw up the timeline. Maybe he had even arranged to ensure that Jack's gun remained unsecured…that made sense.

Jack rested his head against the passenger seat and let Hammond drive him wherever. He was tired; so tired. It was almost a relief to think that he was going to be secured somewhere, that he would be removed from the temptation of screwing everything up. He let the sound of the engine lull him into a semi-doze.

He started abruptly when the vehicle halted. Jack blinked at the sight of Hammond's house. He had been expecting a military prison or at least a base. He looked sharply at Hammond who put the car into neutral and smiled reassuringly at him.

'Don't worry, Colonel. My daughter and her family left on vacation this afternoon.' Hammond exited his car and Jack followed him.

The house was quiet. Hammond led the way to the back and the homely kitchen. Jack slumped into a seat at the pine kitchen table and waited as Hammond rescued a couple of beers. He handed one to Jack.

Jack took it warily. 'Is it drugged?' He asked bluntly.

Hammond smiled. 'Only with alcohol.' He raised his own bottle and took a drink as though to reassure Jack.

Jack took a tiny hesitant sip. He fiddled with the bottle in his hands; his thumb raked over the label and rubbed at the edge of it. 'You wanted to talk with me?'

'I asked Captain Carter to inform me of the results of Doctor Jackson's translation.' Hammond began. 'After some persuasion, she also told me of your conversation.'

Jack winced but he'd been expecting it. He hadn't exactly told her in confidence and she was too good an officer not to report it.

'She thought you might need to talk.' Hammond concluded softly.

The gentle compassion in Hammond's round face had Jack staring at the kitchen table. 'There's nothing to talk about.'

'I disagree.' Hammond countered. 'Son, what you're facing…' he sighed heavily, 'nobody should have to face something like that.'

'Yet here I am.' Jack brushed the top of the bottle with his thumb.

Hammond frowned. 'Have you considered that the device may have thrown you back in time to change things?'

Jack's eyes flickered up to meet Hammond's sympathetic blue gaze. He looked away again. 'I think we both know I couldn't be that lucky, sir.'

Hammond gave a huff. 'I guess not but…'

Jack's fingers clenched around the bottle. 'If I change time, I risk the lives of everyone on Earth. Who has the right to do that?' He sighed. 'All I know for certain is that Charlie died, and because he died I joined the Stargate programme and ten, eleven years from now, Earth is safe. How can I risk that?'

'We're not usually in the habit of sending our people on missions where they are put in the position of having to sacrifice a loved one, Colonel.' Hammond replied.

'Sometimes there's no choice.' Jack said bleakly.

'Perhaps we shouldn't focus on what happens now.' Hammond put his bottle down on the table. 'Captain Carter mentioned that Doctor Jackson told you that it was probable that the box sent you back to resolve an issue in your present. If we can help you resolve that within the next twenty-four hours then we'll be able to prevent you from reliving your son's death.'

'I take it Carter filled you in?' Jack pointed his bottle at him.

'No.' Hammond smiled at Jack's flicker of surprise. 'She mentioned that you felt you could be responsible for the death of another loved one in the future but didn't expand on the details.'

'Oh.' Jack shifted position on the hard wooden chair.

'From what little she did say, am I right in surmising the death hasn't happened yet – I mean, in your present?' Hammond questioned gently.

Jack took a slug of the beer. 'It hasn't happened.' He stared at the bottle. 'It may not happen.'

'But there's a possibility.' Hammond confirmed.

'A possibility.' Jack grimaced.

'Is it another child?' Hammond pressed when Jack remained silent.

Jack shook his head. 'My wife.' He raised the bottle. 'Not Sara. She and I divorce eventually. I remarry.'

'How will you be responsible for your wife's death?' Hammond prompted.

'She's a serving Air Force officer. I recommended her for her latest assignment. She's holding a frontline in enemy territory.' Jack took another gulp of beer. 'I have a standing order for the place to be blown to bits if it falls into enemy hands.'

'I see.' Hammond sighed. 'So once again you've been placed in the position of potentially having to sacrifice a loved one in order to fulfil your duty to your country; to Earth.'

'Sweet, huh?' Jack muttered sarcastically.

'If you're both serving officers, your recommendation couldn't have been the deciding factor.' Hammond stated authoratively.

'No,' Jack admitted, 'she was actually appointed by an independent international committee.'

'And she's the best candidate?' Hammond checked.

Jack nodded. 'There's no-one better suited. And she's going to do great.' He said wistfully. 'She's amazing and this; it's just a fantastic opportunity for her career…' he let his voice trail away.

Hammond's stern features softened imperceptibly. 'You clearly love her a great deal.'

Jack didn't bother answering him.

'I have to admit that I can't believe that the authorities are allowing such a conflict of interest to exist.' Hammond murmured.

Jack almost smiled at the perturbed look on Hammond's face. 'We're both considered invaluable to the programme and we've both proven in the past that we'll put our duty to Earth ahead of our personal feelings.'

'In the past?' Hammond asked, confusion darting through his eyes.

'My past; future. Whatever.' Jack said shortly. 'She was possessed by an entity that was threatening the base. I shot her. I thought I'd killed her.'

Hammond heaved another sigh. 'So, why did the box bring you here?'

Jack looked at him bemused. 'Because I was responsible for Charlie's death and I could be responsible for,' he caught himself before he said her name, 'my wife's death.'

'But by your own admission you've already killed her once in the past.' Hammond said. 'Surely that would have been a better comparison for the box to draw? Why has it brought you back here specifically?'

'Maybe it's as we said yesterday; I was thinking about this time of my life just before I touched the box.' Jack shrugged.

'But it still doesn't get us any closer to what you're supposed to learn from this time in order to resolve the issue of you potentially being responsible for your wife's death in the future.' Hammond picked up his bottle of beer and took a sip.

'I keep going over it in my head.' Jack said. 'It doesn't make any sense.' And all he seemed to do was think in circles.

'Have you reached any conclusions?' Hammond asked gently.

Jack shook his head. What had he learned really? That he wasn't wholly responsible for Carter being in Atlantis? That he had taken it for granted that there would be time for his retirement and for them to be together, and maybe he feared that wasn't true anymore? Evidently the box thought he needed to learn something else but what?

'I don't know.' Jack traced the label on his bottle. 'All I know is both here and in the future, Earth has to come first but if that was the lesson…I think I know it already.'

'And if that was the lesson why are you still here?' Hammond murmured. 'I'm sorry.' He gestured at Jack. 'I don't think I've helped at all.'

Jack grimaced. 'You could do me a favour, sir.'

'Anything. You name it, son.' Hammond said generously.

'Can I crash here tonight?' Jack requested quickly. 'Being back in the past with my ex-wife…'

'Awkward?' Hammond suggested with open amusement.

'You could say that.' Jack said dryly.

Hammond nodded. 'Why don't you take the guest room you used yesterday? I'll rustle us up some dinner.'

Jack made a quick call to Sara, ignoring the blatant curiosity that coloured her every word. The next couple of hours disappeared as Hammond served up a simple meal of grilled steaks and baked potatoes with salad. They sat and watched a movie before Jack excused himself relatively early and headed to bed.

He lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. His conversation with Hammond had made one thing very clear; he was evidently missing whatever it was he was supposed to have learned. Why had the box dropped him back in his past when Charlie had died? Why not when he'd zatted Carter that time with the computer entity? If he feared killing her again, Hammond was right; that was more of a direct comparison. Although…was it?

He turned over onto his stomach and closed his eyes as he went back through it in his mind. Jack thought back to the morning in Daniel's office. He'd definitely only been thinking about Carter in Atlantis and Charlie. He'd been feeling lonely since Carter had gone; lonely in the same way that he had felt after Charlie's death and he'd lost everything. Maybe because he was scared that he was going to lose everything again, if Carter died…if he ended up killing her permanently.

That was the difference, he realised with sudden insight. The last time he had killed her with the computer entity it hadn't been permanent. Carter hadn't died. She had been saved. Charlie had died and Jack was scared the next time he lost Carter…if she died in Atlantis…then it was going to be permanent.

OK, Jack thought grimly. So he understood why the box had brought him back to relive this part of his past and he understood that the internal problem he had been struggling with when he'd touched the box had been his fear of being responsible for Carter's death. But how did reliving Charlie's death help him learn anything about what he was facing with Carter?

As he said to Hammond, all ending up back in the past seemed to be teaching him was how choiceless he was especially since his attempt at locking the gun away had failed - and he still didn't understand that. He should talk with Hammond in the morning. If the General wanted to take precautions on ensuring the timeline then fine but Jack didn't want someone breaking into his house again.

He stared sightlessly at the ceiling. So it looked like he had no choice with Charlie: he had to let his son die to protect the timeline. And he had no real choice with Carter: he might have to kill her to save Earth.

Jack sighed. He turned over and rested his forearm over his face. He ignored the tears pressing up against the back of his throat and eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

Jack found Carter sitting in Hammond's kitchen when he went in search of breakfast. Past Carter. She was in her uniform and he felt a wave of nostalgia at the blue skirt and jacket over the crisp linen shirt; the blue tie, the bars on her shoulders. He was reminded briefly of the eager young officer who'd challenged him at their first meeting.

'Carter.' He greeted her briskly.

Sam scrambled to her feet. 'Sir.'

'As you were, Captain.' Jack looked down at his own jeans and sweater. 'I'm not exactly dressed for protocol.'

'General Hammond was recalled to Washington.' Sam explained. 'He asked me to give you a ride to your house.'

Jack shrugged as he helped himself to coffee and took a seat opposite her. 'I can get myself home, Carter, and I assume Catherine's expecting you at the base.'

'I called in and told her I'd be late.' Sam said. 'I should apologise for informing General Hammond of your situation. If I could explain…'

'You did the right thing.' Jack cut her off. He blew on the hot liquid before taking a long swallow.

'I was hoping General Hammond would be able to help you find a way to save your son.' Sam admitted. 'Maybe there's a way to save your son and for the timeline to remain intact.' Her whole face was filled with the compassion that was such an innate part of her Jack felt a rush of longing for his wife.

Jack's eyes shot to hers. 'You really believe that?'

'I don't know.' She admitted. 'But maybe it's worth a try.' She waved at him. 'From everything that General Hammond's told me, it's your connection with the, uh, Stargate, that you believe is critical?'

'That's right.'

'So maybe the General can ensure you still join the programme and…'

'And I stay here from this point, I don't go back, and let things develop as before?' Jack questioned. 'With the only difference being that Charlie's alive?'

Sam nodded enthusiastically.

'And what about all the events I know about in the future?' Jack asked casually. 'Do I warn my command when Earth will be invaded?'

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

'What about all the missions I know that went FUBAR.' Jack continued. 'Do I stop those? Do I stop people from getting tortured and dying even if what happens is necessary for the timeline to move on – because if I don't; if I watch while others die or get tortured but Charlie is safe, doesn't that make me a hypocrite?'

'Sir…' Sam tried to interrupt.

'Not to mention my personal history.' Jack commented. There were definitely things he'd would have liked to have avoided; getting snaked, Ba'al...he turned away from her. 'And what about my marriage? I couldn't stay with Sara but I'm not sure I could wait again to be with…' he rubbed his face as he stopped abruptly.

There was a tense silence.

'You've obviously thought about this a lot.' Sam said.

'Believe me, I want to save my son.' Jack confessed. 'I want to save him but…' he shook his head, 'there is more at stake here than just Charlie.' As much as he wanted to pretend otherwise.

'I'm certain most people wouldn't see it that way.' Sam commented.

Jack shrugged uncomfortable with the glint of hero worship in her eyes. He hadn't seen that look in a long while. Once they'd become team mates and lived in close quarters any kind of hero worship was quickly erased to the reality of being with someone who was human. 'You'd do the same, Carter.'

'I don't know.' Sam admitted. 'I'm not sure I have your strength of will, sir.'

'You're one of the strongest people I know.' Jack replied without thinking.

Sam blushed.

'Besides,' Jack said hurriedly in a rush to cover his slip, 'I'm not sure if I tried to change the past it would happen.'

She looked at him confused.

He raised his mug and realised he would have to explain. 'Yesterday, I, uh,' he looked away from her, 'secured my gun.'

'You put the gun away?' Sam clarified. 'So your son can't get to it?'

'I just…I couldn't stand looking at it anymore.' Jack confessed, avoiding her gaze.

Sam reached for his hand but changed her mind just short of touching him. Her hand fell to the table. 'It's understandable, sir.'

Jack tapped the wood. 'But here's the thing. When I got back from the park with Charlie, the gun was out of the lockbox again.'

'You mean, you took it out?' Sam checked.

'No.' Jack took another sip of his drink. 'I didn't. I thought you or Hammond might have arranged to have someone check in case.' He tried to keep the note of accusation out of his voice.

'It wasn't me, sir.' Sam murmured. 'And I only told the General of your situation shortly before he left for your house yesterday evening so I can't see how it would be him.'

'So if it wasn't you or Hammond…' Jack's voice trailed away, his face creasing in confusion.

'Are you sure you secured the gun?' Sam questioned him gently.

He caught the automatic words of denial before they passed his lips. Had he? Or had he wanted it so badly, he had imagined it? No. He had put the safety on the gun; put it in the lockbox and locked it. He set his mug down and stared at the palm of his hand. The imprint of the key's teeth marked the skin like a brand. 'I locked it away, Carter.'

Sam bit her lip. 'Sir, are your memories of the past unaltered still?'

He nodded.

'And nothing has changed in other memories such as our first meeting or your meeting Doctor Jackson or General Hammond? No alterations to these events?' Sam questioned.

'Nothing.' Jack pointed at her. 'What are you thinking?'

'I'm not sure.' Sam shrugged self-consciously. 'I mean, the lack of impact into the future could still indicate that you've travelled back in time within a different reality to your own…'

'Or?' Jack prompted.

'Or,' Sam sighed, 'we could be wrong about the time travel.'

Jack looked at her blankly. 'What?'

'It's just…' Sam hesitated. 'It could be nothing.'

'But it could be something.' Jack retorted. 'Just spit it out, Carter.'

'The gun suddenly reappearing unsecured again seems more like a reset on a game…' Sam winced as he flinched. 'I know it sounds crazy.'

'Not as crazy as you might imagine.' Jack muttered thinking back to the time he and the rest of SG1 had been trapped in a virtual environment. Was that what this was? A virtual trip to his past like when the Gamekeeper had played with them? He grimaced.

'Obviously it can't be as I'm real and you're real.' Sam mused out loud. 'It's just a very weird anomaly.'

But it might not be real. Jack had experienced enough to know that. He felt the beginnings of hope stir inside him; if all of it wasn't real...

'If it is a virtual environment,' Jack said out loud, 'they'd be some kind of exit, right?' He tapped the table thoughtfully.

Sam frowned at him. 'But this is not virtual.'

'You would say that.' Jack smiled at her glare. 'Carter, if we are in a virtual environment, if this…this game is being pulled out of memories in my head, then you're a creation of the game. You would think you're real.'

His words disturbed her; he could see the tell-tale flush on her cheeks and the way she crossed her arms over her chest.

'OK,' Sam said slowly, 'say you're right. If this a virtual environment then yes, there must be some kind of safety exit.'

Only Carter, Jack thought fondly; only Carter would accept she might be a virtual character in a game and help him. Well, maybe Daniel too.

'So what would I look for?' Jack asked gruffly.

'Maybe something that had the same symbols as the box?' Sam suggested. Her eyes flew to his. 'How about the Stargate?'

He stared at her. 'You're talking about sneaking me into a top secret facility, Carter, and activating a device that shouldn't be activated for another,' he just stopped himself, 'shouldn't be activated yet.' He corrected.

'But if this is virtual, it won't matter.' Sam pointed out. 'Nothing in a virtual environment affects the real timeline.' She paused. 'Only we don't know for certain that this is a virtual environment.'

Jack felt his heart sink as the realisation hit him square in the face. Even if the possibility existed that he was in a virtual environment, he couldn't take the risk of treating it as anything but real. The small flicker of hope that had risen disappeared in a smog of disappointment that was thick enough to choke him.

'Which means there's no way out except to learn whatever the hell the box thinks I need to learn from watching my son die again!' His voice broke on the final word and he stared at the table, refusing to give into the tears that threatened. He wouldn't break; not in front of her.

'I'm sorry, sir.' She looked as crushed as he felt.

He turned back to her, reigning in the emotions that surged through him and hiding behind the professional mask of his military persona. 'Not your fault, Carter. I guess the box brought me here to teach me something, not to change things. I just have to find a way to live with that.' He swallowed a large gulp of coffee and gestured at her. 'We should make tracks, Captain.'

She looked for a moment as though she wanted to say something but she finally nodded. Jack let her lead the way out of the house and got in her car. He recognised it immediately as the classic she'd had her first few years of the programme. He climbed into the passenger seat.

There was silence as she navigated through Colorado Springs and made the turn into his neighbourhood. Sam pressed down on the accelerator and Jack squirmed in his seat.

'Hey, Carter, ease up on the gas.' Jack said pointedly. 'We don't want to get a speeding ticket.'

Sam bit her lip. 'Sorry. I, uh, drive fast.'

'No kidding.' Jack muttered, fiddling with his seat belt. 'You might want to drop me here.' He said suddenly, recognising the street. He didn't want to have to deal with explaining to Sara how he'd left with a middle-aged balding man and been dropped off by a pretty blonde woman especially after the whole hotel debacle.

'Sure.' She shot him a look as she swerved to park and stopped the car.

'Well,' Jack said brightly, 'thanks for the ride.'

There was an awkward silence.

'If there's anything I can do...' She began.

The urge to beg her to stay with him was almost too strong. He got out of the car and leaned down to speak through the open window. 'Goodbye, Carter.'

'Goodbye, sir.' Sam replied. A faint hint of sadness touched her delicate features before she gunned the engine and drove away.

He watched as her car turned the corner. He rubbed a hand through his short strands of hair and looked in the direction of his house. In less than twenty-four hours, his son would die. He wasn't sure he could face that; wasn't sure he could face the entire day. He'd met up with some old buddies in his original past; spent the day shooting the breeze, reminiscing. He wasn't sure he could do that again whatever the impact to the timeline. He doubted if the future relied on him buying Colonel Michael Franklin a beer.

He glanced at his watch. It was still early, he realised with a start. Charlie would be getting ready for school. He'd missed it that first time. He'd stayed in bed, taking advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep-in. Sara had seen to Charlie before she left for her temp job at an art gallery downtown. The temptation to see his son, alive and whole, one last time had him walking towards the house quickly - he didn't want to miss him. He was almost running by the time he got to the front door.

Jack took a moment to gather himself before he opened the door and stepped inside. He closed the door behind him and hung up his jacket.

'Jack?' Sara wandered through from the kitchen, gathering items into her oversize purse. 'You're home.'

'Yeah.' Jack said as she kissed his cheek absently on her way past to gather her keys.

She speared him with a concerned look as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 'Everything OK?'

He nodded. 'You want me to take Charlie to school?' The offer was out of his mouth before he realised he'd made it.

She shook her head. 'It's on my way and you look tired.' She placed a hand on his arm. 'Did you get any sleep?'

He shrugged.

Sara looked as though she was about to say something else but she evidently decided to say nothing. She moved to the stairs. 'Charlie!'

There was a clatter of footsteps as Charlie ran down the stairs. His eyes lit up at the sight of Jack. 'Dad!'

Jack smiled at him. 'Hey.'

'Come on.' Sara handed Charlie his coat. 'We have to leave or you'll be late.'

'How about a hug for your old man?' Jack tried to keep the request light.

Charlie rolled his eyes but he acquiesced. 'Do I have to?' He complained even as he walked over to his father.

Jack knelt down and gathered his son into his arms. He held him tightly for a long moment; revelled in the feel of Charlie, alive and breathing. The faint scent of the shampoo and soap Charlie used; the fierce, childish grip with which Charlie hugged him back.

'Jack.' Sara prompted gently. Her blue eyes were filled with concerned confusion and he knew there would be questions later – if there was a later. 'We have to get going.'

'Right.' For a second, Jack wasn't sure he could let go of his son but Charlie was already moving out of his embrace.

Jack stood up and moved to the open front door. He watched silently as Sara unlocked her car and got inside. Charlie turned and grinned at him; a wide open innocent smile. His son waved goodbye as he got in the car and Jack raised his hand to wave back. A moment later, they were gone.


	16. Chapter 16

_Present Day_

'How does it feel?' Bill asked as he stepped back from Daniel. They were in Daniel's office. The box remained on the central workbench glowing. It had a number of leads attached to it that ran over the bench; some to a device Bill was manipulating that had isolated the subspace frequency and some to Daniel.

'OK.' Daniel's eyes shifted upwards as though he was attempting to see the leads that Bill had just attached to his forehead.

'Good.' Bill stepped back towards his laptop. 'Now this may pinch a bit.'

'Wait!' Vala stepped up to the chair where Daniel was hooked up. 'Daniel, are you really certain you want…' her eyes slid to Bill, 'him messing about with your brain?'

'I am not messing about with his brain.' Bill said defensively.

Vala smiled at him sweetly. She turned back to Daniel. 'Because I'm very fond of your brain,' her eyes travelled downwards, 'as well as other parts of you and…'

'Vala.' Daniel interrupted her, irritated.

'I'm just pointing out that your brain is very valuable.' Vala sighed huffily.

'I am not messing about with his brain.' Bill said loudly. 'Doesn't anybody listen to me?'

'You're attempting to establish a neural link between the box, General O'Neill and Daniel.' Vala retorted. 'That sounds a lot like messing about with his brain.'

'Actually,' Daniel said slowly, 'she has a point, Bill.'

'Well, OK, a small point maybe.' Bill acknowledged. 'But it's not like I'm planning neurosurgery. This is all,' he gestured at the box, 'fine.'

'Are we even sure this is going to work?' Mitchell questioned. He was leaning in the doorway, one shoulder propped up against the doorframe, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle.

'Theoretically, this should work.' Bill said firmly. 'We've isolated the subspace frequency that the box uses to create the neural link with General O'Neill. By connecting Daniel's brain to the box using the same frequency he should be able to mentally access the neural link and communicate with General O'Neill.'

'Let's just get on with it.' Daniel suggested, squirming in the chair.

Bill nodded. He pushed a button on his laptop.

Daniel felt the jolt of electricity across his skin. He gritted his teeth against the pain. It felt like a bad case of pins and needles. He felt his vision blur and he closed his eyes.

'Are you OK, Daniel?' Vala asked worriedly.

'Fine.' Daniel said.

'OK.' Bill's voice seemed distant suddenly. 'We're accessing the neural link.'

Daniel's brow furrowed as he tried to focus his mental energy on Jack. He had to establish a connection with the other man.

Thoughts drifted through his head…not his own; Jack's thoughts. It felt like chaos. Emotions shifted like sand through the noise; pain, confusion, frustration.

'Jack?' Daniel thought at the other man as hard as he could. 'Jack, are you there?'

There was no reply.

Daniel tried to listen for the thought fragments again but it was as though he was skipping like a stone over a river. He couldn't seem to stop shifting from one thought to another; never staying long enough to make sense of what he was touching nor to make any kind of connection with Jack.

He breathed out sharply in frustration. 'It's not working.'

'Keep trying!' Bill said.

The pain in his forehead increased and Daniel gave a small groan. He searched for Jack's thoughts again but they were gone.

Damn.

Daniel opened his eyes and reached up to yank the leads off his forehead. The pain immediately subsided leaving a throbbing ache behind.

'Daniel?' Vala asked tentatively, touching his shoulder.

'I couldn't reach him.' Daniel said despondently, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. 'I caught some glimpses of thoughts but that was it.'

Bill sighed. 'I'm not sure what else we could try. If I boost the signal any further, I'm afraid I might accidentally scramble your brain.'

'I thought you weren't playing with his brain?' Vala pointed out tartly.

'It was a good effort.' Mitchell said firmly, breaking in before an argument could erupt. 'I'll tell Landry it didn't work.'

'I'll do it.' Daniel brushed Vala's hand away as she went to help out of the chair and felt a twinge of guilt as hurt flickered over her mobile face. He pushed past Mitchell in the doorway and was grateful as the SG1 team leader prevented Vala from following after him.

The elevator was empty and Daniel stepped into, grateful to be alone with his thoughts. He rubbed his sore forehead. He had no idea if Jack was in the past or not, he only knew his friend was hurting and hurting very badly. That was as much as he'd been able to make out amongst the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions.

Jack had been frustrated. Daniel sighed. He wasn't sure he would have been able to help Jack even if he'd been able to make a connection. They were as clueless as Jack appeared to be about the box's function. The past can teach but what?

As an archaeologist and historian, Daniel was a great believer in learning from the past. On a sociological basis, history could inform the future; what worked, what didn't work, what factors played into the downfall of a civilisation. History, the past, was meant to teach future generations what mistakes they should avoid.

The military invoked the same principle every time a debriefing was held. The debrief was meant to provide a review of what had happened so lessons would be learnt and mistakes not repeated – even in successful outcomes. Daniel very much approved of debriefing as a way of learning.

Maybe that was all Jack was supposed to do. Treat his visit to the past as a virtual debrief through events. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be anything more than that. But Daniel had gained the impression that Jack was stuck. Maybe he didn't realise that he had to learn something, Daniel mused; maybe Jack thought he was truly back in the past.

Daniel pushed off the back wall of the compartment as the elevator came to a halt. He walked the familiar corridor to the control room and took the stairs up to the General's office. He rapped on the open door.

Landry motioned for him to enter. 'I take it from your expression that it didn't go well.'

Daniel shook his head and wrapped his arms around his torso as he came to a halt in front of Landry's desk. 'I think it may be time to call Sam.'

Landry's bushy eyebrows slightly. He sat back in his chair and regarded Daniel with an even gaze. 'Carolyn tells me that Jack is stable. Physically he's in no danger.'

'I made enough of connection though to know he's in a great deal of emotional pain.' Daniel said. 'Whatever he's going through, it's not pleasant.'

Landry harrumphed. 'So you say.'

Daniel's blue eyes flashed with annoyance. 'I also believe that this was caused because Jack was wrestling with something to do with Sam being in Atlantis. He may need her to make sense of it.'

'It's a new situation for both of them.' Landry pointed out brusquely. 'I would be surprised if there wasn't a period of adjustment.'

'Look, General,' Daniel argued passionately, 'I've been the first to say that we needed to try everything we could to help Jack before we called Sam but I think we're there. It's been forty-eight hours and every attempt to help him has failed.'

Landry regarded Daniel thoughtfully and slowly nodded. 'Atlantis is due to dial in for their usual report in three hours. If Jack hasn't recovered by then, we'll inform Colonel Carter.'

'Thank you, General.' Daniel breathed out deeply in relief.

'In the meantime, I would appreciate it if you and SG1 continue to think of ways we might be able to revive Jack.' Landry said firmly as he reached for the open folder on his desk. 'Telling Colonel Carter that General O'Neill is in a coma is not a conversation I want to have.'

'Understood, General.' Daniel nodded sharply. He hovered a moment but as Landry ignored him in favour of the folder, he realised he had been dismissed. He backed out a little ruefully. His next port of call was Jack's infirmary room.

Teal'c looked up from his National Enquirer as Daniel entered. 'Daniel Jackson.' He lowered the magazine. 'Vala Mal Doran has already informed me that the attempt to connect with O'Neill failed.'

Daniel nodded and dragged up another chair to sit beside Teal'c. 'How's Jack doing?'

'There is no change in his physical condition.' Teal'c reported briskly. 'Did you discover anything in your attempt?'

'Maybe.' Daniel folded his arms and gazed at the still figure lying in the infirmary bed. 'He's in pain; emotional pain. Whatever he's reliving it's hard for him.'

'O'Neill's life has not been easy.' Teal'c said. 'There are many events which may cause such pain.'

'I couldn't get through to him.' Daniel looked over at Teal'c speculatively. 'Maybe we should try together. Your experience at meditation might help.'

Teal'c nodded. 'I am willing to assist O'Neill in whatever way I can. Perhaps establishing a physical connection would also assist our efforts.'

Daniel nodded; it made sense. If they were in the same room as Jack, holding onto him in some way maybe they would be able to break through the mental barriers and make a connection. 'Of course, even if we do make contact with him, I'm not sure he's going to talk to us.'

'You still believe that his lesson is in regards to Colonel Carter's assignment to Atlantis.' Teal'c stated thoughtfully.

Daniel nodded. 'But I don't know what Jack's meant to learn or what part of his past he's in…'

'He has been struggling with Colonel Carter's absence.' Teal'c acknowledged. 'Perhaps he is learning how he may handle waiting for her to return.'

'I don't think that's it.' Daniel sighed and rubbed his thigh lightly. 'If only he'd talked to me instead of touching the box.'

'Indeed.'

The familiar phrase lifted Daniel's spirits. 'OK, so I know for a fact that Jack approved of Sam going to Atlantis. It's a great assignment for her; great for her career. And she is the best candidate to lead Atlantis. I know he told her that.'

Teal'c set his magazine aside. 'I believe Colonel Carter also believed it was her duty to go to Atlantis despite wanting to remain on Earth.'

'Because she wanted to stay with Jack.' Daniel sighed. 'The timing is terrible. I mean, just we get rid of the Ori and they can finally spend time with each other.' There was a hint of guilt in his voice. He'd been responsible for the Ori finding their galaxy; for Jack not being allowed to retire; for Sam being recalled to the SGC and almost losing her life several times over and…

'He's scared of losing her.' Daniel realised out loud.

Teal'c regarded Daniel with bemusement. 'It is a natural concern, Daniel Jackson. Colonel Carter is a warrior. There is always the risk she may fall in battle.'

'No.' Daniel sprang to his feet. He had the feeling he was onto something – something important. He paced. 'Jack almost died in Atlantis.'

'The city was taken over by the Replicators.' Teal'c murmured.

Daniel swung his arm wildly. 'Not to mention the Daedalus almost destroying the city with a nuke.'

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at Daniel's disgusted tone. 'They were following O'Neill's standing order.'

Daniel stared at him. 'That's it.' He pointed a finger at the Jaffa. 'That's it.'

Teal'c's eyes filled with understanding. 'He fears killing Colonel Carter.'

'I have to talk to Bill. We have to try again and talk to Jack.' Daniel's eyes gleamed with bright intensity as he met Teal'c's questioning gaze. 'I think I know what the box is trying to teach him.'


	17. Chapter 17

_Jack's Past_

The house was empty.

Jack stood in the hall uncomfortable with the silence. He walked slowly back up the stairs unsure what his next move should be, what else he could do. He paused in front of Charlie's bedroom and wandered inside.

The room was filled with Charlie. His things were everywhere; the baseball glove and the ball on the dresser, a model aircraft on a shelf, toys strewn on the floor. Jack walked over to the bed and adjusted the cover again. A framed photo caught his eye. It was one of him and Charlie taken after one of Charlie's Little League games. They were both smiling; happy. Jack set the photo back in its place. He had the same photo on the mantel in his new home – the one he shared with Carter. She had been the one to place it there alongside photos of her family, Daniel, Teal'c, Cassie…their shared SG1 family.

He sat down heavily on the bed. He had spent hours in the room after Charlie's death. Hours just sat on the bed alone with his guilt. Most of the time he had been drunk. The alcohol had provided a filter between him and reality. Maybe not so much a filter as a barrier, Jack considered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on knees. As long as he couldn't feel anything, talk to anyone, that had been fine with him.

He'd wanted to die.

Jack remembered that all too clearly. He'd sat with his gun on Charlie's bed. Thought about shooting himself. Ending it. He still wasn't sure what had stopped him. Perhaps because he'd been in Charlie's room and surrounded himself with Charlie. Perhaps it had been some small vestige of his need to protect the last remnants of Charlie's innocence from his own stupidity that had stilled his hand. Maybe if he'd sat in the master bedroom where Charlie had shot himself; maybe then he would have pulled the trigger.

Jack shook himself. He and Sara hadn't been able to return to their bedroom. Some specialist cleaners had come in and seen to everything – Jack had no idea who had arranged that. But even with the evidence of what had happened obliterated, Sara had slept in the spare room, Jack had slept on the floor in Charlie's – or on the couch in the den. He and Sara hadn't slept together afterwards. He had left her alone, too caught up in his guilt to support her through her grief. Abydos had seemed like an easy way out – of his life, of his marriage.

In the end, it had saved him. Daniel had saved him, both literally and figuratively. The Abydonians had saved him; Skaara, Sha're, Kasuf. Because they had wanted to live and they had slowly but surely dragged him from his self-pity and made him want to live for something again, fight for something again. It had been the beginning of healing.

Jack rubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired. He had to find a way back to the future. There was no way he could go through Charlie's death again. He just couldn't do it. He had no idea what seeing his child die again could possibly teach him. He had to find a way out...he got up and made his way to the back to the master bedroom. He showered briskly, dried off and picked up a clean pair of boxers. He headed to the closet for the rest of his clothes.

The gun sat on the lockbox.

His eyes darkened and his jaw tensed as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He reached for a sweater and found himself picking up the gun instead. It lay heavy in the palm of his hand.

He could take it with him, Jack considered. He could keep it with him. Charlie would never pick it up, never use it. And the timeline would change.

If it was real.

Jack sighed. All the points he'd made to Carter that morning flittered back through his head. He could try and save Charlie but even if he succeeded it would only mean that he would face other decisions down the line. Who would he save? Who would he let die?

He went to place the gun back on the lockbox. Jack stopped. He withdrew his hand. He looked down at the gun.

His cell phone rang downstairs.

It startled Jack and he swore. He had left it on the hall table.

It kept ringing.

'Oh for crying out loud!' Jack stuffed the gun back on the lockbox. He charged down the stairs and picked up the phone from the hall table. 'O'Neill.'

'Sir?' Sam said hesitantly. 'I'm sorry to disturb you but I was thinking and I...'

Pins and needles assaulted his head. His vision blurred. 'Damn it.' He slapped a hand over his temple.

'Sir?' Sam sounded taken aback.

'Carter.' Jack could barely get her name out. 'Help.' Everything went black as he crashed to the floor.

He wasn' t sure what woke him but his eyes snapped open. They met Carter's anxious blue gaze and he blinked in bemusement.

'Carter.' Jack sighed as he took in her young earnest face. 'What are you doing here?' And more importantly, he thought, what was he doing on the floor.

'You collapsed when I was on the phone to you, sir.' Sam explained briskly. 'I just got here to check on you.'

He checked his watch and swore. Half the day had disappeared while he had been unconscious. She must have broken in, he mused. 'Help me up.'

Sam took his hand and they staggered to their feet. She smiled weakly and he saw her gaze drop to his bare torso before it snapped back to his face. She moved hastily away. 'Do you remember what happened?'

He frowned. 'I was on the phone to you and then...' his hand crept to his head, 'it was like a bad headache.'

She bit her lip.

'You're thinking something.' Jack commented as he led the way into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He offered her a glass silently and she shook her head.

'This is the second time you've passed out.' Sam commented. 'I put the first time down to alcohol but this looks like it was something different.'

'Such as?' Jack asked tersely as he leaned back against the kitchen counter.

Sam grimaced. 'I was thinking it might be the box.'

'The box?' Jack paused, the glass almost to his lips. He lowered it.

'There must be something connecting you to the box.' Sam said. 'Maybe these...blackouts are caused by someone in your time trying to turn it off or reverse it somehow.'

It made sense, Jack considered. They must be trying to find a way to help him in the future but evidently they hadn't succeeded.

'Actually I think it substantiates the theory I called you about.'

He frowned at her before he remembered she had called him just before he had passed out. She stood by the breakfast bar, twisting her fingers together.

Jack crossed his arms over his chest a little self-consciously. 'So.'

'So.' Sam replied.

Jack raised an eyebrow, partly amused. 'Your theory?' He prompted.

'Oh, right.' Sam pressed her lips together. 'Well, I was thinking about our conversation in the car this morning. About changing the timeline and the purpose of the box and, uh, I think you were right.'

He looked at her blankly. 'What?'

'I think you were right.' Sam said enthusiastically, warming to her subject.

Jack sighed as he set down his glass. 'You're going to have to help me out here, Carter. I was right about what?'

'You said the box didn't bring you back here to change the past.'

'Yes.' Jack admitted cautiously. 'I might have said that.'

'But that's it.' Sam said eagerly. 'The box didn't bring you to the past to change it.'

'I think we've already established that.' Jack bit out.

Sam shot him a look. 'You also said in the hotel that you thought it meant to teach you that you were choiceless because you can't change the past.'

'You don't need to remind me, Carter: I know.' Jack whirled away from her. He was tired and they'd already been through it; he couldn't change the past. He closed his eyes.

He felt her move closer until he could scent her hair; hear her soft breaths close by.

'That's not what I meant.' She said.

If he kept his eyes closed he could pretend she was his Carter; his wife.

'I meant,' Sam continued, 'that focusing on something you can't do, that the box never brought you here to do, is clouding you from realising what it is the box is trying to show you.'

Her words washed over him.

'Sir, you've been drawing parallels between the future issue with your wife and landing back in the past with the dilemma of saving your son.' Sam continued. 'But we know that when you attempted to alter the key event, when you tried to lock the gun away, somehow it wasn't possible. If you were never meant to change the past, if the box is somehow preventing the timeline from being affected, or if this is virtual, then the opportunity to save your son doesn't truly exist; it never did in reality.'

He couldn't save Charlie, Jack realised. No matter what he had said or thought, he wanted desperately to believe that there was a way; that he would find a way. It was his son. And the threat of that hope disappearing shook Jack to his core. He forced back the tears that threatened. This had never been about his son's death; this was about learning something that would help him and Carter in the future.

Sam touched his shoulder gently. 'Sir?'

'I can't go through it again.' Jack blurted out; the words spilling from him unwillingly. The horror of it rushed through him again; the sound of the gunshot, the smell of the blood; Charlie's eyes empty of life…Jack covered his face with his hands.

Sam's hand rubbed his shoulder soothingly and Jack turned suddenly at the familiar touch, his own arms tightening around her in a need for the woman she would become. She didn't struggle; didn't protest. She simply held him. He kept his eyes shut and buried his head in the crook of her neck; one hand fisted in her hair. He just needed to pretend; just for a moment…he pulled back an inch and found himself staring into her blue eyes.

They were so familiar; he could almost imagine her being his Carter. His gaze dropped to her lips. It would be so easy to kiss her, to lose himself in her…to forget everything in her arms and their passion…

Sam shifted, nervously clearing her throat and the spell was broken.

Jack moved hurriedly away from her. What the hell was he thinking, he berated himself harshly. He wasn't married to this Sam; she wasn't his. Not to mention Sara…he felt his cheeks flush with shame. He owed her more than embracing another woman in the home they had shared.

'I should, uh, I should be going.' Sam said awkwardly.

'I think that's a good idea.' Jack said. 'I'll see you out, Captain.'

They walked back to the front door and he opened it for her without looking at her at all.

'Colonel,' Sam turned back to him as she stepped out, 'the reason why I called, I, well, I just wanted to tell you that I think if you stop focusing on the dilemma and focus on what originally happened that would help you figure this out.'

Jack gazed at her youthful face so alive with intelligence. 'You're probably right, Carter. I'll think about it.' He held up a finger to forestall any further argument or offer of support. 'Thanks.'

She gave a brief half-hearted wave and walked away to her car. He shut the door slowly. He missed his Carter; missed her so incredibly much.

Jack headed back up the stairs and opened the closet. He grabbed a shirt and shrugged into it, his eyes always on the gun.

' _Sir, if you were never meant to change the past, if the box is somehow preventing the timeline from being affected, or if this is virtual, then the opportunity to save your son doesn't truly exist; it never did in reality.'_

He wasn't meant to save his son. The bitter taste of failure flooded him. Jack slammed the closet door shut and rested his forehead against the cold wood. He took one step away from the closet and then another. He backed out of the room.

He had to get out of there. He whirled around. He took the stairs two at a time, hit the hallway at a run; seconds later he was in his truck. He drove aimlessly for a while before the park beckoned to him.

He walked around it and let the memories of the previous day fill him up; of picnicking with Charlie, of his son running across the grass, of Charlie admiring a dog and hinting less than subtly that he wanted one too. The pictures of Charlie laughing and having fun soothed him.

Daniel had been right, Jack mused as he found a bench overlooking the small rowing lake and stared out at the water. As hard as it had been, it had been great to spend time with his son again; to enjoy him again, alive and carefree. He loved Charlie and Charlie loved him. He remembered the feelings with a clarity that he hadn't had for years. As much as he hated to admit it, time had dulled his memory of Charlie and whatever else was meant to come out of the crazy experience with the box, seeing Charlie again, being with his son again was a blessing.

His mind drifted back to the closet; back to the gun. Losing him again was going to hurt like hell. Regrets piled one on top of the other. For all the things he'd never had the chance to do as Charlie's father and for all the things he'd had the chance to do and never done. He had barely borne the pain the first time around; wasn't sure he could stand it again. All he had was a few hours left, Jack mused. Only a few hours to find his way back to the future…

But how?

'… _stop focusing on the dilemma and focus on what originally happened…'_

Carter's advice sounded crisply in his head as he headed out of the park. Stop focusing on the dilemma – how did he do that? How did he ignore that in a few short hours in his son would be dead? And the pain and horror of that? He could admit – if only to himself – that the prospect of going through it again, terrified him.

He sighed. Push the personal stuff away; keep your mind on the job. He pressed his lips together as he got in his truck and gunned the engine. He had to treat this like any other kind of mission, and his current mission was to get back to the future.

Which meant he had to focus on what originally happened. He grimaced. So much for trying to keep objective. How could he be objective about his son's death? About his part in what had happened? And more to the point, what did it all have to do with his fear of killing Carter but how did he make that go away? What was his son's death meant to teach him if it wasn't to drive home how choiceless he was when Earth's safety was at stake?

Jack could feel his desperation climbing with every minute that passed. He drove out of town. An old diner caught his eye and he stopped. He knew he'd have to go back to the house eventually and face the nightmare of hearing the shot; finding Charlie; the drive to the hospital and the devastating news of his son's death. As he sat with his coffee he began to question Carter's theory...maybe he could change history; maybe he could save his son...

Jack stared up at the diner's oil splattered clock. Two hours to go…

His mind was so fixated on the clock, he barely noticed the two men entering.


	18. Chapter 18

Jack heard the bell ring absently but paid the newcomers no attention. His focus was on his own problems; on being stuck in his past; on what would happen to Charlie when the clock reached the fateful hour; on not being able to prevent it…on not being able to get back to his future and avoid reliving his worst nightmare…

The two men slid into the seats opposite Jack.

Jack's eyes widened at the sight of them. His brown eyes flickered from one to the other. He put his coffee down.

'Daniel.'

Daniel nodded. 'Jack.'

Jack stared at the other man beside him. 'Teal'c.'

Teal'c bowed his baseball cap covered head.

Jack looked from one to the other and back again. They looked very much like the last time he had seen them. Aged. Teal'c's smooth dark face heavier than when Jack had first met him and he had a streak of grey through the black. Daniel's face bore the lines of his years of service in the Stargate programme. Gone was the lanky academic; he moved with the assured confidence of a soldier.

Jack went weak with relief. His team. SG1. They always came through for each other. How had he forgotten that? His eyes searched for his Carter before he realised it was unlikely she would be with them; she was in Atlantis. That hadn't changed.

He picked up his cup again jauntily. 'So, you were in the neighbourhood; thought you'd stop by?'

Daniel shot him a suitably annoyed look and Teal'c raised an eyebrow.

'We're in your head, Jack.' Daniel said sharply. He looked around the diner and chagrin danced across his face. 'Although it looks surprisingly like mine.'

'That's scary.' Jack commented dryly.

'Indeed.' Teal'c quipped.

For a moment all three smiled at each other, years of camaraderie and friendship filling the moment with an unspoken understanding.

Jack's smile faded and his eyes crept back to the clock.

'Where are we?' Daniel asked softly. 'Where are we in your past?'

Jack didn't want to answer the question. He sat back and stared at his cup. 'In two hours time, Charlie will shoot himself.'

Daniel threw Teal'c a horrified look; the Jaffa's impassive face took on a grave look.

'I've been here for almost three days.' Jack continued calmly. He looked up at them. 'I woke up in bed with Sara.' He waited a beat. 'So what's been going on with you guys? Anything new?'

'Oh, you know,' Daniel remarked half-seriously, 'the usual; staying with you in the infirmary while you're in a coma, trying to work out how that box you touched works so we can fix you,' he wrinkled his nose, 'worrying about whether to call Sam or not.'

Jack's heart pounded. 'Have you…'

'No.' Daniel shook his head. 'Landry's going to tell her in a couple of hours if we haven't solved this by then.'

He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed. 'And by solved this?' Jack pressed.

'Resolving your issue so you may wake from your coma, O'Neill.' Teal' c said solemnly.

Jack registered the detail; he was in a coma and they were in his head. This was all in his head; he wasn't back in his past at all; the box had never really sent him back in time. He closed his eyes briefly before he reopened them. 'So how do I get out of here?'

'You want to tell us what's happened to you so far?' Daniel suggested mildly.

Jack set his cup back down and leaned forward. 'I touched the box…'

'We noticed.' Daniel muttered.

'The next thing,' Jack continued forcefully, 'the next thing I know I'm waking up in my younger body next to Sara.' His finger stabbed the stained Formica. 'I figured the box must have sent me back in time.' He paused. 'Only it hasn't has it?' He waved a finger at the pair of them. 'Otherwise you wouldn't be here.'

'We don't think this is the actual past.' Daniel confirmed. 'You remember the dream about the future that Shifu gave me?'

Jack nodded.

'Well, we think the box is a mechanical way of achieving the same kind of dream teaching only instead of the future, it creates a virtual past pulling on your own memories and subconscious.'

'So I can examine my past and learn from it.' Jack sighed. 'The whole virtual thing didn't really come up until today. I've been thinking I was really back in the past.'

'And you believed to change the past would endanger the future.' Teal'c surmised.

'Exactly.' Jack shook his head. 'I thought the best thing was for me to figure a way back.' He gestured. 'I went to see General Hammond.'

Teal'c raised an eyebrow.

'Makes sense.' Daniel mused out loud. 'He would have already been aware of time travel and he was in a position to help you.'

'That's what I thought.' Jack said. 'We, uh, realised we didn't understand enough about time travel and uh…'

'You called Sam.' Daniel completed with a sigh. He pushed his glasses up his nose. 'Wouldn't that have changed the timeline?'

'We both figured she could keep a secret.' Jack shot back. 'Only she called you.'

'She did?' Daniel blurted out surprised.

'For a translation of the writing on the box.' Jack frowned. 'The past teaches.' He looked at Daniel. ' _Your_ theory was that the box was trying to help me solve a problem by making me relive a part of my past that was related in some way.'

'We have come to a similar conclusion.' Teal'c's low voice rumbled reassuringly across the table.

'We think if you solve your problem then this…virtual environment will cease to exist.' Daniel said. 'You'll wake up from the coma you're in.'

They stared at him expectantly.

Jack squirmed under their insistent regard. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'It was not wanting to talk about it which got you into this mess in the first place.' Daniel retorted, gesturing at him in frustration.

'Testy, are we?' Jack threw back.

'You would be too if your best friend had just spent the last three days in a coma.' Daniel rejoined, his blue eyes flashing angrily

'Try living in your worst nightmare for three days.' Jack bit out, glaring back at him. 'Do you have any idea the hell I've been through?'

'This solves nothing.' Teal'c intoned, capturing their attention.

Jack and Daniel subsided with apologetic glances.

'Daniel Jackson is correct, O'Neill.' Teal'c said without any further discussion. 'You need to talk about your fear of killing Colonel Carter.'

The blunt truth ploughed into Jack like a sucker-punch and stole his breath. He paled. He reached for his coffee to distract himself.

'We're right, aren't we?' Daniel said gently. 'That's what's been bothering you since Sam went to Atlantis. It's not that she's gone although I know you're missing her; it's that she might die there and you think your hand will be on the trigger.'

Jack took a long sip of the cold liquid. He couldn't look at his two friends; couldn't admit that they were right. The diner seemed preternaturally quiet.

'You're scared that you'll be responsible for someone else you love dying.' Daniel continued remorselessly. 'Like you feel responsible for Charlie.' He motioned at the diner. 'That's probably why you ended up back here in the past just before Charlie's death. The box must think you can learn something from that experience that will help you with Sam.'

'I don't know what the hell it's trying to teach me, Daniel.' Jack confessed brusquely. 'All I know is my son is going to be dead in less than two hours here in this nice virtual environment and I can't do anything to change that.'

'But that's not the point.' Daniel argued fiercely. 'The box never sent you back to change things.'

Jack pointed at him with the mug. 'That's what Carter, I mean Past Carter,' he frowned, realising it wasn't actually her at all, 'virtual Carter, whatever, said this morning.'

'Well, she was right.' Daniel said smartly. 'The box is showing you the past so you can learn from it. To make sure you don't make the same mistakes in your future. That's the whole point.'

Jack stared at Daniel's earnest face. 'It's not exactly the same situation.'

'Isn't it?' Daniel's hands punctuated each word with a gesture. 'Think, Jack. What has the box shown you about the last few days? If you had the time over; what would you do differently?'

Jack's lips thinned but he forced himself to focus on Daniel's questions. What had happened and what would he do differently? Lots of things, he realised with renewed pain.

He remembered sitting in the back yard with Charlie, his son apologising for the water-pistol. He remembered holding back the words to tell Charlie explicitly that he was to forget about the water-pistol. If he truly had been able to change things, he would have talked with his son.

He remembered Sara's question in the car about where Jack had stowed the water-pistol because she thought Charlie was sleeping but how Charlie must have overheard Jack telling her it was in the closet. He'd been as clueless as Sara when it had happened the first time but second time around? He'd known and he should never have said anything.

And Jack remembered the closet; seeing the gun lying on top of the lockbox where he had left it unsecured. He remembered Sara reminding him…remembered in his original thinking that it didn't matter because Charlie knew not to pick up his weapon. He remembered that morning and thinking all he had to do was to take the gun with him; remembered locking it away the day before because he couldn't stand looking at it. He would choose to change that single act of thoughtlessness if he had the ability to change time.

Because the painful truth was that his son's death had been a tragic accident but it had been preventable. In his past, Jack hadn't been choiceless. He had made choice after choice; to not talk to Charlie about the water-pistol, to tell Sara within earshot of their son where he'd put it; to leave his handgun unsecured. And the box had shown him each pivotal choice in bright, revealing Technicolor.

And if he had his time over he would make different choices. Jack's eyes met Daniel's in startled realisation. 'I would choose differently.' He said out loud.

Daniel nodded.

Jack closed his eyes. He'd never been choiceless.

There were always choices. He could talk to his wife; he could transfer his responsibilities on Atlantis - rescind the standing order to destroy Atlantis; he could stop taking it for granted that there was time for him and Carter and finally put in for his retirement. He had choices.

That was the lesson.

If he could have prevented Charlie's death by making different choices in the past then he could prevent Carter's in the future…he didn't have to be the one responsible for killing her.

Everything faded to black.


	19. Chapter 19

_Present Day_

The cemetery was cold and empty. Jack liked the solitude; the bracing wind that stung his cheeks. He scrunched his gloved hands further into the pockets of his jacket and hunched a shoulder against the breeze. His knee ached and his feet were icy; the chilled ground seeping through the thick leather soles of his boots. He shuffled a bit to warm them.

He felt old.

He grimaced. A brief virtual visit to his younger body and Jack was all too aware of how much he'd aged. His silver hair was turning white, his muscles were no longer toned and his love of sweet desserts had added bulk. He'd have liked to have blamed his desk job and the lifestyle in Washington – and that was part of it – but he determined he'd relaxed too much since he'd stopped being in the field and settled into his marriage with Carter. He shrugged away the discontent. He could lose the weight and tone up if he put his mind to it; it was just a question of eating better, doing more exercise as Carolyn Lam had been hinting in every medical he'd had in the last couple of years.

She had finally released him that morning from the infirmary. He'd suffered through the twenty-four observation period following his waking from the virtual past with barely concealed impatience.

Jack pulled a face. His room had been like Grand Central Station when he'd opened his eyes. Bill Lee and Carolyn had been observing; Mitchell and Vala hovering on the sidelines. Teal'c had been sat on one side of him; one large hand resting on Jack's bare arm, the other clasping Daniel's hand over the mound of Jack's stomach. Daniel had been sat on the other side of Jack in a similar position. All of them had been hooked up to the small shiny box that had started the whole deal. Daniel had apparently theorised that a physical connection, Teal'c's meditative experience and their emotional bonds as team mates might enable the plan to access the neural link. Jack shook his head in bemused wonder at Daniel's continual ability to think outside of the box. His lips lifted at the unintended pun.

The room had been cleared pretty quickly by Carolyn who had proceeded to put him through a battery of medical tests to ensure the box hadn't resulted in any lasting damage. Jack knew the box hadn't affected him physically apart from the whole mind game. But the virtual game the box had played had stirred up old emotions – not that he had confided any of that to Carolyn. He surmised Daniel and Teal'c hadn't said anything to her either on specifics because he was certain he'd have been forced into a pysch evaluation if they had. Reliving the days leading up to Charlie's death had been excruciating and he'd had too much time in Carolyn's observation period to go back over everything in his head.

Jack's eyes travelled over the simple marble marker that guarded his son's grave. He'd always known in an abstract way that he hadn't wanted to examine too closely that he had made some bad choices in the days leading to Charlie's death. He'd always known he was responsible but the detail had been nicely vague beyond the obvious act of not locking the gun away. Probably he'd drowned the rest in alcohol in the days after until the pain of each individual mistake had been dulled. Having lived through it once again, he could see each and every mistake clearly though and they smarted. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been; how thoughtless. He'd never truly forgiven himself but he found himself filled with a renewed sense of guilt.

'I'm sorry, Charlie.' Jack reached out and touched the tombstone gently. 'I should have done better.'

His son had deserved better. The boy who had run around the park, fearless and happy, who'd played so fervently on the pinball machine, who'd spent a whole afternoon doing yard-work with him; he deserved better.

But if Jack hated that the box had replayed every mistake, he conversely appreciated that the box had allowed him to remember his son so clearly. He'd thought he remembered every detail of Charlie. His image was always in his head; the sound of his laughter. But seeing his son again, interacting with him again had been like restoring an old painting to its former glory; faded colours had been brought to life, lines that had gone fuzzy had been made sharp. Jack could remember Charlie's personality better; the hardworking, playful, funny boy who hadn't cared about straightening his room and wanted to be outdoors.

And he also remembered the strong-willed, stubborn side of Charlie that hadn't been able to let go of the water-pistol; the curiosity that had led him back to the closet and Jack's gun. Jack had also come to understand that he hadn't been the only one to make bad choices that fateful weekend. Charlie's might have been borne of childish needs and edged with innocent naivety about the real danger of picking up Jack's weapon but they had been choices. Even Sara had chosen to tell Jack about the gun rather than put it away herself. It didn't make him any less responsible, Jack thought sadly, but it helped.

Jack stared down at the grass, blinking back tears. He had never stopped grieving for Charlie but after the box it felt like the grief had grown tenfold, a hundredfold, again. He let it wash over him as he stood by son's grave and apologised silently for not saving him.

He wasn't sure how long he had been standing there before he became aware of the fact that he wasn't alone. He felt a presence behind him and a quick look over his shoulder confirmed his suspicion. Daniel stood awkwardly on the path; waiting. There was a moment of resentment but Jack shrugged it away and with a final pat against the tombstone, he walked away.

Daniel fell into step beside him silently as they made their way to a nearby bench. They sat down and stared out at the gentle grassy rises covered in white headstones. Jack's gaze strayed back to Charlie's with unerring accuracy.

'You know after we spent time in the virtual world with the Gamekeeper, I felt like I'd lost my parents all over again.' Daniel remarked quietly.

Jack didn't argue it wasn't the same. In many ways, it was. Daniel had been forced to watch his parents' death over and over, unable to prevent it. He could argue that nothing compared to losing a child but…Jack's jaw set. It wasn't a competition and Daniel understood grief; understood Jack's grief more than anybody else.

'It's different this time.' Jack commented soberly.

Daniel looked at him quizzically.

Jack's lips twisted. 'I know I'll survive it.' He looked away into the distance. And he had meant his early thoughts; that it was good to have a renewed memory of Charlie. In the days after Charlie's death, all he had sometimes been able to remember was his son's broken body, bleeding and dying. Now he remembered his son alive and breathing; had even had the chance to say goodbye to him.

Daniel breathed out and it occurred to Jack that the younger man had been worried.

Jack nudged him with a shoulder. 'I'll be fine, Daniel.' And he would; maybe not that day or the next one but eventually.

His friend nodded.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while until Jack cleared his throat as a thought occurred to him.

'I've been meaning to, uh, that is, I maybe need to…'

'Thank me.' Daniel said dryly.

Jack shot him a look. 'I said maybe.'

Daniel smiled. 'You're welcome.' He rubbed his hands together as though to warm them. 'You talked with Sam.'

Jack had spoken with her briefly when Atlantis had called in for their usual report. 'She's doing great.' Jack commented proudly. 'She rescued Sheppard's team from some Wraith; says she feels like she's got her feet wet.' He pulled a face. 'I told her I'd spent a couple of days in the infirmary.'

'She must have been annoyed we didn't call her.' Daniel murmured, his cheeks flushing guiltily.

'She was pissed.' Jack agreed. Carter had understood but she had been annoyed that she hadn't been informed and he could sympathise. If it had been her who had been in a coma and her condition had been kept from him he would have been pissed too. Sam had also been all set to walk through the gate when he'd told her about his infirmary stay but he'd assured her he would be OK. He'd refrained from telling her why the whole debacle had happened and the exact part of his past he'd ended up reliving. As much as he wanted her home, he knew he needed space to work through what had happened on his own, and he knew she was needed where she was; holding the line in Atlantis. He'd tell her everything eventually but not via a video feed through a wormhole.

'You're just lucky Vala didn' t get a chance to talk with her first.' Daniel sighed.

Jack grimaced. He glanced at Daniel. 'What did you have to do?'

'Dinner.' Daniel said shortly. He shifted as though uncomfortable. 'I was kind of a jerk to her during...everything.'

Jack quickly turned the laugh that bubbled up into a cough. He had no idea if Daniel and Vala would end up together, if they even wanted to end up together, but watching them spar was a great spectator sport.

'You heading back to Washington?' Daniel asked.

'Yeah,' Jack made a face, 'I have some things to sort out with the President.'

'Retiring?' Daniel suggested dryly.

Jack glanced at him sharply and wasn't convinced at the innocent expression the archaeologist plastered on his face. Jack relented.

'Maybe.' He admitted although he'd already made his decision. He was putting in for his retirement; Earth was relatively safe after all and he was tired of waiting, tired of being in a position where he might have to kill Carter to save Earth. She would come home at some point - despite the fact that she would probably do a fantastic job, he couldn't see the IOA allowing a military leader to steer Atlantis for too long and he figured he could negotiate to join her as a civilian consultant once his retirement came into effect. In the interim, he and the President needed to have a chat about a certain standing order and his oversight duties in regards to the City of the Ancients…

There was another long silence.

Daniel shivered beside him.

Jack shook his melancholy away and stood up. 'Come on; we're freezing our asses off out here.'

'You want to go grab a pizza?' Daniel got to his feet.

'Pizza's good.' Jack said simply.

They set off back along the path and Jack threw a final look over his shoulder towards Charlie's grave. There was no doubt he had made some spectacularly bad choices, but he had paid for them, and paid dearly; Charlie had paid dearly. But the box had shown him he didn't have to make the same mistakes twice and he intended to make the most of his second chance.


	20. Epilogue

Jack woke abruptly. His body tensed and froze as someone else moved in the bed. Carter. He reminded himself. It was Carter. She had arrived the night before. She was home from Atlantis for a vacation of fishing at the cabin. He opened his eyes cautiously and breathed out in relief as he recognised her long hair strewn across the pillow; the shape of her body under their usual quilt.

'Sorry.' Sam's apology whispered across the space between them as she turned to face him. She wriggled closer to him and wrapped her arms around his torso. Her nose nuzzled his neck and he felt her lips skim his bare shoulder.

He relaxed and shifted. He tangled their legs together and winced as her cold feet burrowed against his for warmth. He kissed his wife slowly before he eased back, tucking her long hair back over her shoulder. Given their long distance relationship, neither of them was used to sharing a bed. It usually took them a few days to adjust.

She smiled and kissed him. 'Go back to sleep, Jack.'

Jack waggled his eyebrows. 'Are you sure you want to sleep?'

'Hmmm.' Sam's breath hitched as his hand slid purposefully under the sleep shirt she was wearing. 'Well, if you have something else in mind…'

'Oh, I definitely have something else in mind.' Jack whispered as he kissed her again.

The second time he woke, with the sun flooding through the thin curtains and brightening the room with a soft warm gold, he was almost certain her return and their planned vacation had been a dream. Yet Sam stirred under the arm he had wrapped around her waist; one foot brushing his. He snuggled closer to her; breathing in the scent of her. He kissed her neck softly. She gave a happy murmur and cuddled into him. Jack would have been happy to have stayed there all day.

His body had other ideas. He planted a soft kiss on Sam's forehead as he eased away and headed for the bathroom. She was out of bed when he returned, making breakfast. He sighed in disappointment but let the day get started. It wasn't too long before they headed out to the small dock.

Jack waited impatiently as Sam took a call from the SGC. He hoped that she wasn't being recalled. His lips twisted. She'd been gone just over two months. He deserved some uninterrupted time with his wife and hoped the universe agreed.

Sam hurried back. 'Sorry.'

'Problem?' Jack asked casually as she ruffled his hair and kissed his head before sitting down and reaching for her pole.

'Walter called to tell me the IOA want me to brief them before I head back.' She wrinkled her nose. 'I think they want to go over what happened with the virus again.'

'Ah.' Jack had heard about the lockdown but he'd handed off most of his oversight duties on Atlantis to Landry. Jack was no longer involved in the decision-making about the City of the Ancients and his standing orders had been rescinded. Landry had reinstated them less than an hour afterwards but at least Jack knew it wasn't his own hand on the trigger any more. He'd learnt his lesson and put that particular gun away.

Her blue eyes scanned his as though she could read his thoughts and he squirmed under her serious regard. Jack took in the frown line between her brows and decided a distraction was required. 'So the virus thing sounded rough.'

'It was.' Sam picked up the coffee she had abandoned by the bait box and took a sip. 'Thankfully, Teyla and Ronon knew about a cure so we fixed it before there was any major damage to the city.'

Jack observed the emotion that swam in her eyes. 'You want to talk about it?'

'It's just harder than I expected.' Sam sighed. She put down her coffee and cast out before she lowered the pole to rest against the tackle box. 'I mean, don't get me wrong, the guys there are great and supportive - even McKay, it's just...'

'It's not like being part of SG1.' Jack completed. He knew how she felt. He'd felt the same way when he had first taken command of the SGC. It was lonely at the top and he'd still had SG1 beside him. He put his own rod down, reached over and snagged her hand.

She smiled at him gratefully. 'I think it doesn't help that a lot of the time it feels like I'm just babysitting the place for Elizabeth Weir.'

He had a feeling on some level she was hoping that's all it was; a temporary command until they found Elizabeth. 'Are the guys there giving you a hard time about not rescuing her?' Jack guessed.

'No more than we ever did to General Hammond when one of us was missing.' Sam said dryly.

'That bad, huh?' Jack teased, his brown eyes twinkling.

Sam smiled at him. They had always acted fairly atrocious when one of them had been missing. She had come close to blackmailing Weir to find him. Her eyes narrowed suddenly. 'Talking about going missing, what about you?'

He caught her knowing look and grimaced. 'I haven't touched any more Ancient boxes.'

She smiled briefly but her eyes remained on him, concerned. 'It sounded rough.' Her words were a repeat of his to her.

'It was but I'm OK.' He assured her. And he was mostly; he missed Charlie and he'd grieved again but he also treasured the fresh memories of Charlie; the hug goodbye with his son.

'So, are you going to tell me the whole story or I do have to torture Daniel?' Sam asked bluntly, holding his gaze.

Jack tried not to squirm. 'That depends,' he joked, 'can I watch while you torture Daniel?'

She raised an eyebrow that was far too reminiscent of Teal'c for Jack's comfort.

He dropped his gaze, staring into the pond. He knew if he refused to talk about it, she'd back off. She'd had her own share of bad alien experiences enough to understand. But he didn't want to shut her out; didn't want to create distance between them like he had with Sara after Charlie's death. Maybe that was another lesson he'd learned. He took a deep breath and started with the easiest admission. 'I've, uh, I've put in for retirement.'

Sam froze. Her gaze flew to his, and he read the startled shock in the bright blue depths of her eyes easily. She bit her lip. 'Really?'

'I know I should have probably discussed it with you first but let's face it; Homeworld was always supposed to be temporary and I only stayed because of the Ori thing.' Jack fidgeted with a button on his shirt as his gaze slid to the water. 'The paperwork has to go through so…' he waved a hand in the air, 'it'll be a while yet. Hayes is talking about working out some kind of consultancy position so I won't get bored.'

'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure.' Jack said with a certainty that took his wife by surprise.

'You've thought about this.' She realised.

'I want to be with you.' Jack said clearly, looking over at her again.

Her eyes softened. 'I miss you too.' The love in her eyes washed away the last of Jack's fears; she knew he missed her and needed her despite his support of her assignment.

'Good.' Jack smirked as she laughed.

She squeezed his hand gently. 'I won't be there forever.' Sam promised.

And he would be waiting for her. _Always._

'So what does this have to do with you touching the box?' Sam pressed. Her face was alive with her innate curiosity.

He wet his lips unsure how to tell her the rest. The feel of her fingers enclosed in his gave him courage.

'Well, you know the box thought I needed to learn something.' Jack began awkwardly.

She nodded, the sun glancing off her blonde braid turning it to a rope of burnished gold.

'It was pretty much all about how responsible I felt about you being at risk once you took the Atlantis assignment.' Jack rushed the words out.

'Jack...'

'It's OK.' Jack said hurriedly. He grimaced. 'The box made me realise some things.'

Sam's eyes narrowed. 'Is that why Landry's overseeing Atlantis now?'

'Maybe.' Jack muttered. She had always been the smart one. He cleared his throat; his fingers tightened on hers imperceptibly. 'Uh, the other thing is, well, you know that it sent me on a virtual trip to the past.'

She nodded, frowning.

'What I didn't tell you was that I ended up in the days just before Charlie died.'

Sam squeezed his hand again in silent support and when he risked a look at her, she was looking at him with nothing other than love and encouragement. He tangled their fingers together, needing the comfort of her touch.

'I didn't know it was a dream or the point of it at first.' Jack continued quietly. 'I thought I was really back in the past just before Charlie died; that there was really the chance...' He stopped abruptly as his throat closed up on the words. He wasn't sure he could tell her the rest. Sam moved without letting go of his hand; she got up and slid onto his lap, her arms sliding around him.

Jack hugged her, stroking her braid back over her shoulder. He cupped her cheek. 'I'm fine.' He assured her. His arms tightened on her. He cleared his throat as she stroked a hand over his jaw. And suddenly, like a dam wall breaking, the truth tumbled out and he couldn't stop it. 'I would have saved Charlie.' His voice broke on his son's name. The confession was almost a whisper.

In the end, he had known if it had been real, if he had truly been in the past, he would have screwed with the future to save his son. No matter what he had said or thought about keeping Earth safe, he knew deep down he couldn't have allowed his son to die again. It was a selfish truth he had kept hidden, buried, unspoken about, even unthought about since he had woken; something that rubbed at his subconscious like a tiny stone in a shoe and kept him awake at night.

He would have saved Charlie but there had been no choice; the past was the past. He'd learned his lesson well; he knew it was only the future where he could choose what was still to be written.

Sam's gaze was filled with more understanding than Jack figured he deserved as grief and guilt rolled through him. He buried his face in her hair, clung to her as he finally let the tears come. Sam held him as he cried silently. He sank into her warmth, the familiar and safe feel of her as he allowed himself to grieve in her arms; to come apart and know that she would hold him together.

Time stood still.

Eventually, Jack raised his head and Sam brushed the dampness from his cheeks. He could see her love for him shining from her own tearfilled eyes and he knew his own damp gaze was unguarded; that she could see just as clearly his love for her. Jack slid his hand through her hair. He kissed her softly, slowly. Sam understood him all too well; understood that he just needed to hold her, to anchor him. She understood he had needed her to bring his soul the rest of the way home.

fin.


End file.
